


Fallen Son

by ChandrilaSky



Category: Kylo Ren - Fandom, Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, ben solo - Fandom
Genre: Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Force-Sensitive Leia Organa, Gen, Good Parent Han Solo, Kylo Ren Backstory, Parents Han and Leia, Past Leia Organa/Han Solo, Seduction to the Dark Side, Skywalker Family Drama, Skywalker Family Feels, Smuggler Han Solo, Teen Angst, The Dark Side of the Force, Young Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 23:29:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13914468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChandrilaSky/pseuds/ChandrilaSky
Summary: Canon compliant.Ben Solo longs to find his place in the galaxy. Dogged by the legacy of his famous family, he seeks to find his own way. He wishes to one day train with his Uncle, Luke Skywalker to channel the untamed Force energy that flows through him, and to become a pilot like his father, Han Solo, but worries people will only see him as an extension of them.He cares for his family, but does not always relate, and more often then not finds himself alone due to their busy lives. Since his youth, he's been haunted by a dark presence in his mind that only seems to grow stronger.This story explores how Ben navigates his world and his growing sense of isolation and loneliness as he confronts the shadow inside him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Like many fans, I left "The Last Jedi" feeling so drawn to this character and felt I wanted to know more about his past. I've been inspired by so many Star Wars authors recently, and I wanted to give myself the chance to dig into his past and basically write the story I'd want to read.
> 
>  
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated.

       The Wookiee roared in pain, clutching his side. The sound reverberated through the halls of the Solos’ apartments, possibly spilling out through the open windows onto the streets of Hanna City. Any passers-by who happened upon the gut-wrenching growl would surely have looked up, startled, concerned. Butthe perpetrator of the wound was neither of those things. He held fast, striking again with the lightsaber, parrying left, then right. This time, Chewbacca side-stepped the swipe of the blade, and the dark haired boy missed his target. But it was too late. In his attempt to move aside, the Wookiee had taken a fall.Panting wildly with a dark determination in his eyes, Ben Solo raised the weapon over his head and brought it down hard, delivering the final blow with purpose.Silence. Ben wiped his brow and let out a sigh of exhaustion as he stood over the still form of Chewbacca. He tentatively stepped closer to his vanquished enemy, scanning the tufts of fur for signs of life.

     “Chewie,” he said softly, almost a whisper. Nothing. He came closer still, now stooping down to examine the body. Stillness. Ben rose to his full height,which was considerable for his age. He peeked into the next room, hoping no one had seen, his face growing tense with every passing second. 

     “Chewie,” Ben repeated, this time delivering a gentle kick to the Wookiee’s side. Panic began to swell in his is chest. Surely he wasn’t…he couldn’t possibly…Ben held out his hand, still clutching the sparring sword. “No way,” he said, looking from the weapon to the still Chewbacca and back again. Just then the windwas knocked out of him as Chewbacca sprung to life, and action, pulling Ben down to the ground and pinning him, the wooden play sword tumbling from hishand. Laughter escaped him, even as he hit the floor, and relief. Chewie extended a furry hand and Ben grabbed it, pulling himself up.

      “I had you!” Ben exclaimed. Chewie laughed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Alright, fine,” said Ben. “I almost had you.” Ben pointed a finger at his foe.He knelt to retrieve his saber, the blade painted green to resemble his uncle Luke’s famous weapon. “We go again,” he said. Ben took his stance and Chewbacca countered, leaning in with raised fists.

     “Um, excuse me young master Solo, but your mother has informed me that dinner is to be served in the south corridor…

     “In a minute, Threepio,” Ben barked.

     “Oh my,” said C-3PO, backing away. “Don’t kill the messenger.” Chewbacca motioned to the droid to move further still, but Ben was already plunging

towards the Wookiee with no sign of slowing.

     “Aaaagh,” hollered the droid, frozen in his horror.

     “Ben Solo!” said Leia sternly as she stepped into the chamber. “What have I said about fighting in the house?”

     “Sorry, mom,” said Ben, quickly pulling his weapon behind his back, as though he hadn’t already been caught. Chewbacca let out a grieved growl.

     “And you…enabling him like that. You know better. At least, I thought you did.”

     “I tried to stop them, I assure you,” said C-3PO. “It’s quite against protocol to have such sparring in these apartments. I’ve told them both many times…”

Leia put her hand up and the droid stopped his flow of speech at once.

     “Dinner’s waiting, you two,” she said with kindly. Chewie made a small bow towards Ben, which he knew meant, “To be continued…” before making his way to the dining hall. They’d of course carry on fighting here in the house the very next time Leia was out. Han never minded. In fact, despite all his protests about Ben’s proclivity towards Jedi training, he watched quite frequently and even encouraged them. There were two rules only, "Don’t tell your mother I let you do this, and clean up after yourself.”

     “I’m not hungry,” said Ben, stretching his arms, sore from battle.

     “Even Jedi have to eat, you know,” she said. Ben scowled, but the look of amusement on his mother’s face forced him to crack a smile. Come to think of it, he was feeling a bit hungry. He allowed Leia to pull him to her.

     “Where’ve you been?” He asked. She looked weary and not unhappy exactly, but stressed. Something wasn’t right.

     “Oh, I know my business would bore you,” said Leia. “I want to hear about you.” She’s wrong, Ben thought. Her work held genuine curiosity for him. He wanted to know about it. She either underestimated him or didn’t trust him. He let it go and obliged her.

     “Just breaking the rules, as you can see,” he said, gesturing back towards the chamber where he and Chewbacca had sparred.

     “So like your father,” she said, smiling. Ben smiled back, but inside he bristled. She meant it as a compliment and it was, but it was all he ever heard, and to him it didn’t feel true. Ben adored his father, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be him. He found the constant comparison tiresome. He got it from every angle. His teachers, his schoolmates, strangers even. Sometimes he wished he could just fade into obscurity. There were days when he longed to be Ben, just Ben.  People were forever telling him how special he was but never because of anything he did. His importance in this galaxy was based solely on that which he had no control. And he couldn’t complain to his friends, certainly, or he’d appear like an ingrate. It seemed ridiculous to complain about the burdens of having a famous family when most people around him seemed to think it was the key to happiness. He had everything, was born with everything. Still, that didn’t stop his feelings of loneliness, of other-ness. He knew he had talent. He was powerful in The Force, that much was certain and it certainly got him attention.Sometimes he enjoyed that part, but mostly it embarrassed him. He usually tried to downplay it to draw off the chorus of, “Oh, it’s that Skywalker blood,” “You must get it from Luke,” “Your mother has it too, you know.” Then there was the dark feeling. Every so often he sensed a presence in his mind, like someone was watching him, but from the inside. Whenever it came, he attempted to close himself off, but try as he may, he couldn’t shake it. It had happened for as long as he could remember, but he’d told no one. He didn’t want anyone to know, for surely it was his fault. It always seemed to happen after a surge of anger or a moment of disappointment. Perhaps it was merely how he experienced guilt. Whatever it was, it followed him, and he didn’t like it.

     “Smells good,” Ben said, leaning in towards the table, inspecting the roasted phimfish. Not cooked by Leia, he knew. Domesticity was not his mother’s great passion in life, nor his father’s. This was the work of DP9, server droid extraordinaire. “Is dad coming?” he asked as he looked over at Han’s empty dining chair. He hoped it was a casual look. He didn’t want Leia thinking she wasn’t enough for him. But the truth was, there were just certain things he preferred to talk to Han about. Such as his growing desire to learn how to fly. He’d been at his father about it for weeks and always the reply was something along the lines of, “We’ll see, kid,” or “soon,” or “how about after this mission…or that?”

     “I hope so, but I’m not sure. He’s very busy, you know,” Leia said. “Yes, I know,” said Ben. Very busy. Very important. He’d heard as much every day of his life.

    “Oh good, you’re alive!” Han’s voice. As if Ben’s hopes could make things manifest, his father strolled in, looking ragged. Was that dirt or grease on his face? Probably both. “I heard you and Chewie all the way down by Sy’s Bar. I warned you not to let your mother find out about that. Looks like she let you off easy.”

     “This time,” said Leia. Han kissed her cheek and she accepted, though wasn’t shy about wiping the residue from her face. “You’re not going to wash before dinner? What kind of example are you setting?”

     “Example? Ben’s not going to follow anything I do. That’s a terrible idea! If we’re lucky he’ll learn everything from you.” Leia rolled her eyes. Chewbacca and Ben shared a look and both burst out laughing.

     “What’s so funny?” asked Han. Ben shrugged and promptly dug into his buttered caro beans. The rest of the meal passed pleasantly enough, but Ben was itching to ask the dreaded question again. He just wasn't ready to be shot down and definitely not in front of Chewie. He did notice that his parents were sharing significant looks across the table between bites of food. His sense of his mother’s mind prickled slightly, but he couldn’t see what was there. Was she hiding something on purpose? He looked from one to the other with curiosity, but could discern nothing from either face.

     “I’ll clear up,” he said, shoving away from the table harder than he meant to. “No, I got it, Dee-Nine.” Ben gathered up the plates and bowls, making a show of it. I would be using my Force powers for this if someone would let me, he thought.

    “You know I don’t like that, Ben,” Leia said aloud.

    “Gah! Why are you in my head?” he asked.

    “Your head? It’s written all over your face,” she replied.

    “Is something bothering you, kid?” Han asked, leaning in, elbows on the table. Ben thought he looked suspiciously like he did during a card game: sneaky. Before he could protest, the server droid removed the dishes from Ben’s arms and fluttered away to the kitchen. Ben wiped his hands together and suddenly found the floor very interesting.

    “No,” he said. “What could be bothering me?”

    “Well, we don’t know if you don’t tell us, do we, kid?” asked Han. Chewie grumbled. Ben sighed.

    “It’s just that I’d hoped…I thought…” “Hey!” Ben looked up fast enough to catch what his father had thrown to him. The golden dice from inside Han’s ship, the _Millennium Falcon_.

    “Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, we’ll get out of the city, find some nice quiet field of balmgrass…” Ben gazed at his father in amazement. “What, you thought I didn’t know you were dying to fly?”

     “Can we leave Chandrila?! Can I try hyperspeed?” asked Ben. Han held up his hand.

    “Now don’t get carried away. We gotta see how you do, first. She takes time to get used to…” Ben jumped at his father, hugging him tightly.

    “Thanks, dad. I promise I’m ready!”

    “Oh, I’m not worried about you being ready. I’m worried about me. It’s no small thing, ya know.” Chewbacca stood and grabbed Ben into a hug, already

growling instructions as to how to properly operate the _Falcon_.

    “Okay, okay…” said Ben. “You knew about this?” he asked, looking at Leia. “That’s why you were acting so strange?”

    “I wasn’t acting strange. ”

    “You were acting kinda strange,” said Han. She play punched him in the shoulder. He and Ben both laughed.

 

     ******************************************************************************************************************************************************** 

 

  The next morning, Ben and Han did not leave Chandrila flying the Millennium Falcon. They did not leave Hanna City for the grasslands. There would be no flying. Only storms.

     “You’ve flown in storms!” said Ben.

     “It’s your first lesson!”

     “Exactly. If I can handle this weather, I can handle anything.”

     “It’s not so easy as all that.”

     “You make it look easy.”

    “Yeah, well it’s not. I’m an experienced pilot, Ben. It’s not safe out there.” Han gestured to the window and lightning cracked as if on cue. Ben tried to get ahold of his anger. If he didn’t he might have an accidental burst of Force power, or the dark presence would come. He wasn’t angry at Han, not really, but at the situation. At the stupid Chandrila weather. It hardly ever produced storms like this. Chandrila was a mild planet, usually all soft winds, gentle rains, and glorious sunshine. How could the stars align to bring about such an anomaly on the day of his first flying lesson?

     “Look, I know it’s disappointing, I do,” Han continued. “We’ll go out next week. I know how much this means to you, because it means something to me too.”

Han stepped closer to Ben, but slowly. He knew what his son was capable of and what sometimes happened when he was experiencing excess emotion. Ben hated it, that people tiptoed around him, like he was an egg about to crack, but he understood. He didn’t yet have control over his abilities. He was no Jedi, just an untamed force of energy. He wondered if his Uncle Luke had ever been like that, but then he’d always had a teacher to show him the way.

     “We _could_ do a dry run,” said Han, placing a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “In the hangar, like a…simulation. I’ll show you the controls, get you used to the feel of it. We’ll have lunch at the tavern. You can try an ale-just a small one-and you can’t tell your mom.”

     “I wouldn’t,” Ben said, a smile spreading across his face. “Not…accidentally, either,” said Han. Ben shook his head, fervently. Maybe he didn’t know how to keep the _darkness_ out, but he was usually able to block out Leia if he needed to.

     “So, I guess we’ve got a deal.”

     “Deal,” said Ben.

 

       *******************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

     They tore through the pounding rain, woefully underdressed for it. Ben had been too excited to grab a proper cloak or coat and Han had followed quickly behind. The hangar stood close to the Silver Sea, close enough to see the waves tumbling thunderously. As they approached, Ben admired the waves as they crashed against the cliffs, more harrowing than he’d ever seen. He’d always liked the soothing sound of them that he could just make out from his bedroom. His windows too provided an excellent view of the typically calm waters. Tonight the foamy crests mirrored exactly how Ben felt inside. He paused, talking in the sea salt smell, letting his father take the charge in opening the hangar. The ribbed metal door groaned as Han pulled the rusty chain.

     “Come on, kid!” Han shouted as the opening grew high enough for them to enter. Both Han and Ben, who was nearly as tall as his father had to crouch to get through. Ben nearly gasped at the inside. He’d been here before, but only when it was bustling with pilots, crew members, and technicians. Now it was empty, silent, impressive.

     “Helloo…oh…oh..oh!” He couldn’t help himself. “It’s me, Ben Solo…oh…oh..oh.” Ben gazed around hungrily at all the different ships. Some small, smooth, sleek. Others clunky and bulky, but every one beautiful in its own right. He glanced at Han who looked on him with such affection that it hurt. Ben returned thelook, but found it nearly too much to bare. He ran off in the direction of the Falcon, dripping water on the floor, carelessly. Han, hastened to chase after his son. Ben froze as he approached the ship. This one was somewhere between sleek and clunky. Just like his family. Just like him. Ben loved this ship. He turned back to Han who’d stopped several feet behind. He nodded, giving the “go on, gesture.” Ben ascended the ramp with reverence, knots forming in his stomach. But he was being ridiculous. He’d ridden in the Millennium Falcon many times, had walked this ramp, entered the door codes. Now he was all pomp and circumstance, as if everything was new. Still, he didn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed. He felt alive. He approached the door with care and fought the urge to turn back to his father for approval as her entered the codes. The door of the Falcon hissed, steaming at the bottom corners and Ben entered with reverence, moving slowly through the corridors. He felt his father’s presence at his back and knew it took a lot for Han not to say anything. For that, Ben was grateful. He clearly understood what this meant and let Ben have his moment. He entered the cockpit, stopping for a moment to pull the dice out of his pocket. Ben threw them back in their usual spot and slid seamlessly into the pilot’s seat. Han slipped in next to him in Chewie’s usual place.

    “Let’s see what you already know just from observation,” said Han. But Ben was already flipping switches, clicking the buttons, firing up the engines. He basked in the gentle hum as the ship came to life. He stood and reached across his father’s head to activate the shields, just as he’d seen Chewbacca do. “That’s it…careful now, pull that lever and we’ll be through the roof.” Ben placed his hands on the steering mechanism, leaning left, then right, imagining what the maneuvers would feel like, as the chair moved with his weight. He adjusted the seat and leaned back in satisfaction. He looked at his father and smiled.

    “Not bad. Now, you just need to…” Ben took a deep breath, a new feeling of resolve washed over him and before he knew what he was doing, he pulled up on the lever. The _Falcon_ rose off the ground. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing! Ben!” Han moved to override his son’s control, but he was thrust back in the chair with a thunk. Ben was holding him in place, but seemed barely aware of it. All else was in his periphery. He concentrated solely on the hangar door, the one that overlooked the Silver Sea. The ship groaned as it pulled above the other parked vessels. Han shouted in Ben’s ear, but he dismissed it. As the door lifted, Ben pulled the ship faster towards the growing opening, still careful not to clip some of the larger spacecrafts. He pushed through, exiting the hangar directly into a torrent of sea spray. He grunted, but kept control, moving the ship up and out of reach of the waves. Rain pounded against the ship and it was so dark Ben couldn’t tell where the lines of sky and sea met. Clearly he hadn’t thought this through, but it was too late to turn back. A crack of lighting jolted through the air, lighting his way for a brief moment, but it caused him to break focus. The ship jolted to the left and Ben’s stomach dropped as he moved with it, all too quickly. Han nearly fell on him.

   “Throttle, the throttle!” Han yelled as they skidded against the sea. They jumped like a skipping rock, hitting the water at multiple points, so hard it felt as though they were landing against a solid rock. Ben collected himself. His heart was in his throat, his stomach somewhere back in the hangar, but The Force was with him. He grabbed the lever and pushed hard. They jerked forward, but also, up. Ben gained control of steering in the knick of time. A wave threatened to take them under just as he righted the angle and the ship accelerated upward.

     “Woohooo!” shouted Ben. It escaped him without warning. He chanced a look at his father, the guilt sweeping in just as they swept through the sky. But Han was…smiling? Ben let out a small laugh. The thunder rumbled above, the sea swelled below. Han flipped a switch and suddenly the rain seemed to fall away from the windows like curtains being pulled. Ben’s visibility increased ten fold. He was struck with gratitude for his father’s discretion.

     “Now plot your course,” said Han, pointing to the knobs and buttons that controlled the navigation system.“That’s it…not that one! Okay, good. Now what?”

     “Scanners!” Ben answered, enacting the radar. Han nodded. Though he no longer looked it, Ben knew his father was likely still angry with him. But Ben thought he detected something like pride mixed in too. He could take the heat when they got home. Right now, it was all worth it. He slowed their speed and they cruised up over the top of the city. The humble skyline appeared more impressive now that they were above it. Old buildings he thought of as rusty or crumbled actually looked quite beautiful up close, not despite their level of disrepair but because of it. Now that he’d gotten a handle on himself, it was easier to handle the ship. It felt natural, like he’d been doing it for years. He’d certainly taken a gamble, but he surprised even himself, truth be told. It could have been a whole hell of a lot worse, yet it was better than he could have imagined. Sunlight broke through the clouds reminding him that it was still daytime. In the distance small rainbows started to appear. The storm dissembled into a gentle rainfall now, the thunderclouds rolling away towards the sea behind them. Landing wouldn’t be so easy, he knew. He also knew he had a limited amount of time left without his father yelling at him, and with each passing moment, the length of his punishment would likely increase. They flew in silence, Ben not knowing what to say. He wouldn't say, “Sorry,” he wasn’t. He knew Han wouldn’t accept, “I don’t know what came over me,” as a viable excuse, true as it may be. As awkward as it was for them not to speak, it was probably best to be ginger and deferential. He’d only plotted a short course. A loop around the city proper and back again. It was about all he could see himself getting away with. He brought the speed up gradually, soaring up above the breaking clouds. The view was stunning. The solar flare panned out over the sky, the light nearly blinding Ben. A sharp contrast to the dark storm of before. Some clouds were thin and whispy, others fluffy and solid-looking, like the mountain peaks Leia described when she talked of her beloved, now nonexistent, homeworld, Alderaan. The gray clouds stood further off, little sparks of lightning still rolling through. Ben got so distracted admiring the shapes of the clouds and enjoying the sunlight that he had to maneuver a sharp turn to pull back around at the edge of the city. He cringed in embarrassment, but Han said nothing. Why he expected himself to be a perfect pilot on his first run was beyond him, but it was there, nagging him. Now that he’d gotten the knack of it, he wouldn’t settle for less. He passed over the museum, the Academy, and over the city square, moving towards the sea, the hangar, and home. The door to the hangar still stood open, the place now buzzing with people, likely eager to get out now that the weather had cleared. Ben felt Han’s eyes on him. He slowed the ship steadily.

     “Good, good,” Han said. Ben was keenly aware that other people now were watching and surely some noticed that the Millennium Falcon glided in a little less smoothly than usual. Ben lowered the shields and activated the breaks as they moved towards the landing strip. It descended with a few bumps and jerks, more than Ben wanted, but less than he expected. As for setting her down, he did so gently, with more preciseness than even his father did on a good day. His little excursion had ended and as he powered down the ship he braced himself for the inevitable. Han rose from his seat, eyes narrow, assessing his son. All the excitement and adrenaline left Ben’s body in a rush and he felt depleted, unable to move. He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, as though that would make what was about to come more bearable.

     “That was fantastic!” Han shouted, grabbing Ben up out of the chair and embracing him fully. He pulled back, hands still square on Ben’s shoulders. He shook his head from side to side in disbelief. “Of course, you could have gotten us killed, almost did, and I’m mad as hell, but that can wait. This calls for a celebration.”  They exited down the gangway, arms around each other. The steam rose around them off the ship, hissing.

    “Ben? Were you…you’re piloting now, eh?” Faylen Caitz, owner of the sky hopper Marshal clopped over to them, his large webbed feet leaving tracks of slime on the hangar floor. He was slovenly, but jovial. He clapped Ben on the back with a hard hand. “I’d recognize the signs of a first flight, anywhere. Your smile’s bright enough to make a bracken fall in love you.” Ben grimaced in disgust. “Hahaha, not that you’d want that, young Solo, no. How’d he do?”

    “Not bad,” said Han. “The kid’s pretty good. “

    “Well, we know where he gets it.”

    “Yeah, well, what can I say.”

     “You? I was talking about Skywalker,” Faylen said. Ben laughed. “Joking of course…must be from both sides. That’s good luck.” He beamed at Ben, who for the first time didn’t mind being compared to his uncle or his father. Faylen Caitz was right. When it came to family, maybe Ben did have good luck.

 

       ***************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

    As promised, they had lunch in the tavern. Ben wasn’t even sure if the place had a name; there was no sign above the door. It was a hole in the wall establishment that was literally a hole in the wall. To even use the word “door,” was generous.The anteroom was hopping with various species, possibly even some creatures (pets, perhaps) and of course droids. The smell was somewhere between sour and sweet, and various smokes from various pipes filled the room, a hazy canopy of different colors floating above their heads. People greeted his father with differing degrees of reaction, ranging from disdain to admiration to…lust? Ugh. Ben winced. Han brushed it all off until reaching the main hall. This seemed to be the place where Han’s people were. Ben recognized a few of the faces. A fellow smuggler here, a gambling buddy there. These were the faces of people who kept his father occupied, who sometimes exasperated his mother. He felt a pang of jealousy and distaste in the pit of his stomach. That Han should choose this life instead of a keeping a nobler profession was often a point of contention between him and Leia. She never seemed to mind until she did. Ben heard the talk, as well. People who wondered why the royal, accomplished, intelligent daughter of Bail and Breha Organa would involve herself with such a man, so beneath her station. This talk hurt Ben because the people who asked that question knew nothing of his father or his heart, and also because sometimes Ben wondered the same thing. And she had a son with the smuggler, so what was she to do? Poor Princess Leia, poor child, that man couldn’t possibly be faithful, not with his looks or his swagger, and surely he was gone so much, he couldn’t care for a child. Ben knew what they said when they thought he couldn’t hear, or when they didn’t recognize him. And on the other side were those who didn’t see how the dashing Han Solo could tie himself to the serious, icy, Senator Organa. Those people didn’t see her warmth or understand the reasons for her seriousness. And he had a son with the ice queen, what was he to do? Poor Han, poor child, she couldn’t possibly hold his interest or love the boy as a mother should. And again it hurt because Ben knew how much she loved him, yet still sometimes wondered if his existence got in the way of her grand plans for the galaxy.

     “Han!” A boisterous voice broke Ben’s reverie and the smile on his father’s face reminded him that he had just completed his first go at flying and that it had been a triumph. Coming here was meant for celebration, not rumination. A large man in colorful robes walked towards them, grinning from ear to ear.  “Who’s this handsome strapper? Why it can’t be young Ben? No…Ben Solo is what, twelve years old…?”

    “Sixteen,” said Ben.

    “Sixteen…Hahaha! Han, my boy, they keep getting older and so do we.” 

    “Isn’t that right.” “Well, Ben, you’re nearly a man, ain’t ya? When I was sixteen I owned not one, but two drinking establishments in the Outer Rim, neither as glamorous as this one here, mind you, but it put me on the map.”

    “This is Kenner J’unger,” said Han. “When he’s not too busy running this joint, I let him join my crew.”

    “Pleasure to meet you Mr. J’unger,” said Ben, extending a hand.

    “A Pleasure to….hahaha, well, I’ll be? A Solo with manners. This one’s polite. He doesn’t get that from you.”

    “No,” Han agreed. Embarrassment threatened to eat Ben alive. He hoped his face wasn’t turning too red.

    “We don’t stand on ceremony here, Ben Solo. Look around you.” Ben did. He supposed he was acting a bit formal for the place, but it irked him to have it received so. How else were you meant to behave when you met someone new?

    “Perhaps an ale would you lighten you up,” said Kenner.

    “Now we’re talking,” answered Ben, flashing a smile in his best impression of his father.

    “I like you, young Solo. I bet some of the girls do too, and the boys for that matter…you should come in here more often, you’d turn a few heads…”

    “Alright, alright,” said Han, sensing his son’s growing discomfort. “How about that ale? The good stuff-that Corellian red. Two big ones.” He winked at Ben. “You deserve it.”

They pushed through the crowd to an empty corner table, Han nodding and waving to those he knew. Ben did notice a few people staring at him and he tried not to mind. One of them was a pretty girl who looked about his age. Not one he recognized. Sometimes he wished he was relaxed enough to enjoy that sort of thing. In that way he supposed he was nothing like his father. Ben plopped down at the table, hoping Kenner didn’t send some attractive barmaid over with their drinks just to mortify him further. As luck would have it, the bearer of the two frothy mugs of ale was an alien with a toad like head who moved along on squishy tentacles. Ben knew that somewhere, someone in the galaxy would be into that sort of thing, but it wasn’t him. Maybe his father’s friend was done taunting him, for now. “Cheers,” said Han raising his cold mug. Ben followed suit.

    “To Ben Solo! Really, the gall of him thinking he could trick his father into letting him take his first flying lesson out in the nastiest storm Chandrila’s seen this side of a decade…and being right.”  Ben nearly soured, but still the look on Han’s face was nothing but admiration. He merely rolled his eyes as they clinked glasses, then took a deep sip of the creamy red ale.

     “I’ll drink to being right,” said Ben, slamming the mug down with satisfaction.

    “Don’t get used to it, kid,” Han said. Ben wiped the foam from his face, letting the taste of the drink wash over him. His first ale. It tasted toasty and burnt, but also sweet. At the end it turned bitter, but in a  pleasant way. Leia wouldn’t like it, him drinking, even though she’d had her fair share of wine as a teenage diplomat. It would be his secret with Han and he liked that. It had been so long since they’d had a secret to share. Kenner and the toady tentacled fellow soon brought out bowls of steaming grains with seared meats and gravies. There were spicy root beets and harleeks in butter with brown, crusty bread. It all looked decadent and tasted delicious, but the plates and bowls showed their signs of age and use. Ben knew a dive when he saw one. It was best not to think too long about where this food came from or how it was prepared. As the ale in his cup diminished, Ben in fact did begin to relax. Today was a good day. He allowed himself to take that in. He’d flown for the first time! The _Millennium!Falcon_! With his father! Now they were drinking in a tavern together and carrying on like old friends, Han sharing some annoyances about Threepio and Senate duties he wished he hadn’t signed up for. Whereas most people would want Han Solo to regale the with tales of his smuggling glory days or his battles against the Empire alongside Luke Skywalker, it was the insight into his father’s daily experiences that Ben wanted to hear most of all. Wasn’t this exactly what he longed for? What he felt he was missing out on every time Han left on a run in some far reaching system for months at a time?

     “Another round for my son and me,” said Han as the toad man slipped by.

     “Dad…are you sure?” asked Ben. “No. But when have I ever let that stop me?”

 

      ***************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

     They walked home in no rush, enjoying the salty air by the sea and admiring the colors of the sun reflected in the water. Ben felt as though someone had sanded his edges. It was pleasant. He couldn’t wait to tell Chewie all about his derring-do in the Falcon. The Wookiee was unlikely to be impressed but very likely to pretend to be so. He’d tell his friends soon enough and their reactions would probably be the inverse of that. As they approached home, Han stopped Ben in his tracks.

     “Now. As fun as that was, for both of us, you know what has to happen.” Ben nodded. “We have to talk punishment. And it’s not a negotiation, so don’t even try.” Han pointed his finger in Ben’s face, but still maintained his wry smile. Ben shrugged as if to say, who me?

     “I accept your terms,” said Ben. Han stood back, looking of in the distance, as though trying to think of something truly painful.

     “No flying for a month,” he said. Despite their agreement, Ben opened his mouth to protest, but Han cut him off. “Unless you think you can give her a proper clean and run a full maintenance check in less time. No help from me, or Chewie. You’ll have to figure out what she needs on your own and take care of it. If you screw up. You fix it. And don’t even think about pulling a stunt like today without me because if you take her out on your own…I’ll know. Understood?” Ben just smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

     “There’s no way you did that. Didn’t happen.”  Curry crossed his arms over his chest in defiance and leaned back against the base of the fountain. The two boys sat in the square, Ben wielding his sparring saber, Curry tossing his favorite Imperial coin. He said he kept it for good luck even though the Empire had had decidedly bad luck and he wasn’t exactly connected with or fond of it. The day was perfect with few clouds and light winds. 

     Curry flipped his coin up and back, grabbing it just before it hit the water in the fountain. “Your dad would never let you get away with that and your mom would have killed you. You would not be here right now to tell me this story if it were true, because you’d be dead.” 

    “She doesn’t know,” said Ben, as if that settled it. But Curry rolled his eyes and shook his head. “No. I don’t buy it. You’ll have to prove it.”

    “I told you, I have to wait a month.That’s my punishment.”  

    “Not a great cover, Ben; inconsistent narrative. Are you the freewheeling rule breaker who throws caution to the wind, or the upstanding youth who wouldn’t dream of breaking the terms of your grounding sentence?”

    “Clearly I’m both,” said Ben. “You  _ do  _ know who my parents are, right?”

    “Yeah, and you seem to have inherited the worst qualities of both. Ow!” Ben smacked the back of his friend’s head with his wooden blade, maybe a little too hard. ”Kidding!” Curry held out both hands in mock surrender. His coin had been knocked into the water and he rolled up his sleeve to retrieve it. A shadow crossed Ben’s face and his anger bubbled up to the surface, seemingly from nowhere. He didn’t like not being believed. 

    “I  _ did _ fly the Falcon. I wouldn’t make that up,” said Ben, edging close to his friend, eyes blazing. “Why would I?” 

    “To impress me, of course,” answered Curry, backing slowly away from Ben, shaking the water off of his coin. He made a goofy grin and raised his eyebrows to show he was still joking. Ben sighed. He could see his intensity was uncalled for, but it had overpowered him. Like always, the aftermath was shame. 

   “Again, why would I?” Ben asked, softening.

   “Point taken.” 

    The more Ben hated himself for lashing out, the more likely it was that the  _ dark presence _ would whisper to him, and the more it whispered, the more likely he was to hate himself, and to lash out. It was a cycle, always there, turning, sometimes slowly, sometimes out of control, though he didn’t like to think of it that way. He didn’t like losing control; it made him feel weak. Losing control was an excuse. A stronger person would keep it. And the  _ dark feeling _ often filled him when he lost it. 

   “Sorry,” said Ben. “I didn’t mean to…”

   “Pssh…don’t mention it. You’re weird. I know it. You know it. Everybody knows it. It’s part of your whole…thing. All part and parcel of being friends with the famous Ben Solo.”

   “Don’t call me that.”

   “What? Ben Solo?”

   “ _ Famous. _ ”

  “You think when word gets around that you know how to fly the Millennium Falcon that you’ll be  _ less _ so? If you’re half as good as your ol’ pops, they’ll be falling all over themselves to get to you.”

     “Who?”

     “Everyone!”

     “Well, then it’s a good thing I’m not.”

     “Pretending to be humble. I like it. That could work for you.” 

 

*****************************************************************

 

     Ben’s plans to begin serving his punishment as soon as possible were waylaid when Han got called away on a run to some far-reaching spice mine. Ben wanted to be furious, but it was Lando Calrissian’s doing and Ben always found it hard to be mad at Lando.

     “If you weren’t in school, I’d say you should come with us, Ben,” his father’s friend said on the eve of departure.

     “On a spice run? You’re out of your mind,” said Leia, shaking her head in disapproval. Lando’s smile only widened. 

     “I wouldn’t dream of putting your son in danger, Leia,” he said.

     “That’s what we’re afraid of,” said Han. “Ben’s no smuggler.”

     “Yes, I know. You’re to be a Jedi one day. Because that’s always a safe path. Well, if you ever get the itch to come along, having someone with your…sensitivities…could be a big help.”

     “I’ll think about it,” said Ben, but he shook his head in his mother’s direction. She did the same, rolling her eyes at Lando’s presumption. Ben had to stifle a laugh.  He wasn’t completely opposed to smuggling. He hoped he could help his father with some important mission someday, but he knew better than to make himself third wheel to Han Solo and Lando Calrission. They followed trouble and it followed them. And selfishly, he knew if he  _ were  _ to accompany Han, he’d want his father all to himself. 

     Ben knew better than to make a fuss about his father’s leaving. Expressing frustration over his inability to start his punishment would make him look like the worst kind of sleemo. But in the pit of his stomach, that seed of discontentment took root, accompanied by guilt, because he was more concerned with how this would hurt his chances at flying rather than with what it would be like to miss his father.  And Ben  _ would  _ miss his father. But now he resented him for holding him back rather than just his absence. Ben knew it was unfair, well, maybe not  _ knew, _ but suspected. He didn’t dare express his feelings about the situation one way or another. He merely had to swallow his pride and move on. As if on cue, Han pulled him aside before he left the apartments.

     “Hey, kid. I know this puts a wrinkle in our deal…”

     “It’s fine,” answered Ben, gruffer and more quickly than he meant to.

     “Don’t say  _ fine _ ,” Han said, placing a hand on each of Ben’s shoulders. “Fine doesn’t mean anything other than avoidance. I know plenty about that. I’m your father. I know you. You don’t want me to say that, I get it, but I do.”

    “I’m sorry,” said Ben, nearly crumbling. 

    “I always miss you when I’m gone, Ben. I think about you and your mother every day. I don’t leave on these runs to escape you or rekindle some old lifestyle. It’s just what I’m good at. It’s a big galaxy, but you’re my world,” said Han. Ben sighed, trying hard to suppress an eye roll. His father had used this line before. It usually made Leia roll her eyes too. She always said it sounded like something he’d overheard in a Cantina somewhere and he hadn’t denied it. The phrase meant little to Ben, considering how fast Han jumped at every chance to leave.  It’s not that he didn’t believe is father, he could sense the truth in it, but it still hurt and he couldn’t explain it. 

    “Anyway, I know you’re more about your access to the Falcon. You’re more interested in her than you are me…it’s okay kid, I don’t blame you. How about we adjust our terms a bit..” Han opened his arms and raised his eyebrows in his most charming appeal.

    “We made an agreement. I can wait,” said Ben. Han stared at him in disbelief.  There was disappointment there too, that his son should choose the more upstanding route than the one Han was offering. But it was Ben’s version of defiance. 

    “Alright, said Han, nodding. Ben knew this meant that he’d officially lost the right  to complain, at least not to his parents. There’d be no more offers like this one. In a way he wanted that. A reason to be angry where he had no right, where he had the opportunity to change the circumstances in his favor. But it was easier to blame someone else. 

    “You  _ could _ come with us, you know. We could use the extra hands. Sure you’re mother wouldn’t like you missing school, but you’d make it up…”

    “I cant,” Ben said sharply, cutting his father off. “I’m not interested. I have more important things to do here.”

     Han looked struck. Ben wasn’t even certain where this animosity was coming from. It wasn’t like his father hadn’t left on a run before, hundreds, in fact. After their brief adventure flying, he thought things might be different with his father. He felt they’d gotten closer and hoped that might have given him have more of a reason to stay.  Or would make it a reason. Surely Lando was perfectly capable of executing this deal on his own, and wasn’t he supposed to be retired anyway? Why was Land even setting up a deal for his father in the first place. Ben almost said as much, but sensed his mother entering the room. He quickly put himself on guard, hoping she hadn’t picked up his thoughts. They’d just embarrass him. He wasn’t even sure how much he meant anything he was currently thinking, but it didn’t stop him from thinking it. 

     “We’ll miss you,” she said leaning up to kiss Han. He hugged her tight, but he kept his eyes on Ben. He looked sad. Ben looked away. 

     “I’ll be back soon,” he said. “I’ve dealt with these people before. They’ll be pleasantly surprised to see Lando and me, but they won’t want us around for long.”

     “Be careful,” said Leia.

     “Not if I can help it,” Han replied. Leia clearly sensed the tension between her husband and son because she slipped away again, pretending to have business in the next room. “Ben,” Han continued. “I love you.”

    “I know,” said Ben, still not looking at his father. And then he slipped away too, skulking, without another word. 

 

*****************************************************************

 

     Ben brushed the tall soft grass with his palm as he walked through the field, the smell of fresh flowers and dirt filling his nose. A pleasant scent. The air was cool and inviting. A soft breeze flowing, a typical Chandrila feature. He twirled his play saber as he often did, enjoying the feel of it in his hands. The field stretched out around him as far as he could see. He paused, to breathe it in. The gentle light that touched the grass, the purply blue of the sky.  He liked the quiet. His house was often filled with noise. The droids, his parents, the holos for his parents. The droids yammering about another holo for his parents. Never a message for him, except Leia to say she’d be spending another late night in the office. Reminding him to clean up. Telling him not to worry. The sounds of the city outside. Adventurous pilots wihzzing by. Laughter spilling from the cantina. Beggars on the corner singing old songs. As a young boy he’d found the sounds comforting, but lately they’d kept him up at night, only adding to the cacophony of thoughts in his head. It was stifling. Lately he found he enjoyed being alone, preferred it sometimes. Except for the fact that  _ it  _ tended to come to him when he was alone. The darkness. But how could it get to him on a day like this? And he was in such an amiable mood. Surely it couldn’t reach him in such circumstances. He heard the sound of birds, some distant and some close. He glanced down at his feet to make sure he wasn’t about to accidentally step on a Shooruk, or some other unsuspecting thing. He moved with caution and began to notice the feel of the grass change. The blades grew sharper, tougher, as he went. He flinched as something sliced his palm. Drops of red grew on his hand and he drew it to his mouth to suck the blood away. The taste was bitter and metallic, a distinct clash with the environment. He cursed under his breath. The pain didn’t linger, nor did the blood. But the grass around him still grew stiff and dangerous. Was it taller than before? The ground beneath him grew softer with each step. Though it hadn’t rained since the day of Ben’s flying lesson, he found mud. It squelched under his boot, an unpleasant sound, an unpleasant feel. Was it mud or something worse? Excrement? He noticed a foul smell beginning to surround him, taking over the sweet floral smell from moments ago. Then he knew.  _ It  _ was coming. He froze. Like always, it started with the crawling feeling on his skin. Then the voice. Distant, but also somehow incredibly close, enveloping him. A calling. A feeling. Darkness. A challenge. Or maybe a promise? 

     He bolted up out of bed reaching for a non-existent blaster at his hip, but understanding that the feeling was just that. A feeling. A dream, only. Fading now. No one was there. Shame washed over him as he found himself wishing that Chewie was there to comfort him Chewie! Just like when he was a boy. And he wasn’t a boy anymore, not really. Though he certainly felt like one. Why hadn’t he gone with his father? The offer had been extended. But no, he’d told Han he wanted to stay behind. Pretended not to care about the mission. Pretended not to want to spend time with him. Pretended he didn’t need anyone but himself. For a moment he’d almost believed it. From the look on his father’s face, so had Han. He had better things to do at home than to go on some smuggling run. And what was that? Stare out at the skyline of Hanna City from his window? No. that made him feel small. The place held no joy for him anymore. Had it ever? As with every time after he felt the dark call, he couldn’t quite remember joy. He thought it was there somewhere, but just out of reach and not meant for him.  Like after falling sick and passing by a shop window, looking in on people laughing and carrying on, thinking you can’t quite remember how it feels to  _ not _ be sick, that maybe you’ll never be like those people again. That you don’t deserve to be.

     Ben’s heart pounded in his chest. His black hair stuck down to his brow with sweat. The hair on his arms still stood on end. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the gray darkness of his bedroom. Now that he was out of his warm bed, he felt the chill of the air slipping through his cracked window. The meadow had felt so real. He checked his palm for the scratch from the wild blade of grass. Nothing. But the ghost of the sensation remained.  The voice hadn’t come to him in a dream like that before. Was it truly that? Or something else? It had certainly felt the same, but stronger than ever. He closed his eyes, reaching out through The Force, scared of what he might find. Surely he was a mad man to invite it. He wasn’t sure that’s what he was doing, though. Not really. Just searching. He started at the sound of a knock at the door.

     “Ben?” It was Leia. Ben didn’t move. He wasn’t sure whether he should answer or jump back under the covers and pretend to be asleep. Although the latter was tricker when you shared a force bond with your mother. 

     “Yes?” He replied, choosing the former. He felt her hesitate.

     “What’s the trouble?” she asked. She didn’t need to specify that she’d felt his distress. That was understood. And it made everything worse. He couldn’t lie.

     “A dream,” he said. “It was nothing.”

     “You can talk to me, Ben,” she said. He walked closer to the door, leaning his head against the soft wood that still smelled mildly of the tree it was made of. 

     “I don’t know what else to say,” he said. A knot grew in his stomach. Why not tell her? The urge was there, certainly. But to what end? She couldn’t protect him from it. He knew what she would say. She’d have him write to Luke, but that was the last thing he wanted. How could Ben tell his perfect, legendary Jedi uncle that there was something…undesirable in him. Luke would never agree to teach him anything if he knew. No. This voice, this darkness, whatever it was, was Ben’s to deal with on his own. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

     Curry wasn’t the only one who thought his story about flying the Falcon was bantha fodder. Ben overheard talk from some others that nearly sent him into a rage.

    “He’s trying to make himself seem impressive in the only way he knows how. Attempting to act like his joke of a father. But we all know that deep down he’s just as boring as his mother, the  _ princess.”  _  She spat out the last word if it were something disgusting. This from a popular girl Ben recognized as the daughter of another senator. He knew enough about his mother’s work to know that said senator was on the opposite side of Leia on nearly every political debate. He also knew in his heart that this was likely the under-lying reason behind the girl’s words, but they still stung, as did the peals of laughter that followed from the rabble. Ben pushed through the crowd of students and teachers, trying to go unnoticed, which was a challenge considering he was taller than most. The sounds of cheerful chatter grated on him, discordant with his current mood. He didn’t care whether people thought he was impressive, but he did care whether they accused him of lying. Ben could be many things, but a liar was not one of them. He’d show them. As soon as he could, he’d fly for all of them to see. 

     As he moved through the city streets towards home, a holo of Leia emerged from his data pad to say that she likely wouldn’t be home at all that night. The Senate was planning to bicker into the long hours of the night about some proposed regulation or other and she’d be lucky to catch a few zzzz’s at her desk after the fact. A knot clenched in Ben’s stomach. She wouldn’t be home at all? Ever since the last instance of the darkness, he hadn’t wanted to be alone. 

    “I’ll have Dee prepare something for your dinner,” said Leia. Ben wasn’t sure if he did or didn’t like the look of guilt on her face.

    “I’ll take care of it myself,” he said. 

    “If you say so,” said Leia. “But if you change your mind, she’ll oblige.”

    “Okay.” He clicked her image off before he could accidentally reveal his true feelings to her. Their bond extended even through comms at times, when emotions were strong, and he could feel himself churning. He continued walking towards home, but as he reached the corner near the museum he turned on his heel and went back the other way. He couldn't face the empty apartments. Of course Dee Nine and Threepio would be there, but that was no comfort. He didn’t dislike droids, but he felt no special kinship to them either. The friendship between Luke and his droid, R2D2 was something that astounded him. At any rate, he found it difficult and frustrating to express nuance to the likes of a protocol droid and he wasn’t in the mood for any probing questions. Without really knowing where he was going, he moved through the corridors and alleys of Hanna City until he found himself at the door of the tavern where he’d shared drinks and camaraderie with his father after their  _ adventure.   _ He hesitated for a moment, looking from his left to his right before sliding through the door that was still just a crack in the wall. 

    Inside, the smells were much the same as the last time he’d been there, with a few more putrid smokes mixed in. He held his fist over his mouth as he passed by a table full of rowdy card players, one of whom was smoking three long cigars at once: the culprit behind the smell. The place was full and loud, much more so than before. This surprised Ben, as it seemed early in the day for such a raucous crowd. But this was a place for miscreants and scoundrels.  _ Scoundrels like my father, _ he thought. It pained him a little, to think so. That word got bandied around in their family so much it was hard to know when it was being used as a term of endearment and when it was meant as an insult. But he was here to forget that his father and Chewie were out on a smuggling run and that his mother was busy giving speeches to a crowd of those she adored and abhorred, and to delay the threat of another dark dream. He moved through the throng of merrymakers towards the bar, peering around for Kenner J’unger or the toad-faced tentacle man he’d met before. 

    “Hey, you’re Han Solo’s boy,” said a gruff voice seated down the way. Ben turned. His face began to grow hot and he wondered whether this had been a terrible mistake. He nearly tore through the crowd and made for the exit, but that would only invite more attention.  That, and Han would never hear the end of it. He reached for The Force, a barrier or sorts against his growing feelings of insecurity. 

   “I am,” he said, “Ben.”  He fought the urge to stick out a hand for a handshake, thinking back to the mockery it had earned him from the likes of Kenner. That sort of greeting wasn’t for this crowd. 

   “Ben, eh? Well, let me buy you a drink, Ben.”

   “Oh, I…” 

The man snapped his fingers and a barkeep who was neither Kenner nor the toad turned to answer the call.

   “This young lad here is Ben Solo,” the man nodded towards Ben, winking…at who exactly? This bar man was an old man in flowing green robes. He leaned closer towards Ben, eyes growing large as he got a good look.

   “I know just the thing.” The bar man reached up overhead to hanging shelf and pulled down a dusty bottle. The lid let out a loud pop as it was removed. Ben heard the sound of fizzing liquid as the man poured into a metal goblet. It looked dark as the Silver Sea at night, but nevertheless a fruity scent emanated from the cup as the bar man carried it towards Ben. He took the cup from the bar and raised it to his lips, his eyes still on the man who’d bought it for him.

   “Here!” came another voice, shouting. A girl’s voice. “Drink this instead.”  Ben started. It was the girl he’d seen here before, the one he’d thought was pretty. Despite a calm face and demeanor, Ben sensed alarm oozing off of her. She shoved into him, pushing another glass into his hand, a wooden mug overflowing with something frothy, as she pulled the metal goblet from him just as deftly.

   “This stuff’s piss,” she said, tossing the contents of the goblet across the room. It splashed a few unsuspecting onlookers, but only a couple of them seemed to notice and neither seemed to care, “come on.” The girl grabbed Ben’s hand and pulled him away. He tried desperately to keep himself from seeing into her mind. Such mistakes had scared people before. She waited until they reached the corner of the room before she turned to look back towards the man who’d offered to buy Ben a drink. Ben hadn’t even asked his name. The man’s eyes were still on them, and the girl made a gesture to him with her hands that Ben could only assume was an insult. The man’s face was full of fury, but something was keeping him from retaliation. 

  “You’re a sensie and you didn’t even  _ sense _ it?” She asked, rounding on him. Ben looked behind him, wondering if she was addressing someone else.

  “Sensie?” He repeated.

  “I can tell you’re one. I’m one too. Well, not really. Sensing other ones is about the only thing I can do. I could tell you were one the last time you were here. At least I thought you were one, now I’m not so sure…I suppose it’s possible I could be wrong…”

Suddenly it clicked.

  “I am. I am,” said Ben, feeling defensive. He felt the force move through him even now, daring her to challenge his connection to it again. The anger in the girl melted away. Without warning, she took his hand again, but gently. Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath. He knew what she was doing. Then, as quickly as she’d taken his hand she dropped it, pushed it away almost, as though she’d touched something too hot. Her brow furrowed, her face twisted in puzzlement. She let out a sigh. She backed away slowly and Ben was so confused he wondered if his face looked just as contorted as hers. When he didn’t follow, she gave him a look and nodded her head further towards the corner. Not knowing what else to do, he obeyed. 

She sunk into a booth, made from ancient looking cushions lined against the wall and he followed suit, across from her. He’d almost forgotten the drink still in his hand. It continued to froth. He started to take a sip.

  “Poison,” said the girl. Ben spat out the liquid in an instant, the noise almost comical.

  “No,not that. Not what  _ I  _ gave you,” she waved towards the wooden mug. Ben jumped to his feet.

  “That man!”

  “Taro Bode. He’s the worst.”

  “Why would he want to poison me?” Ben asked. The girl just shrugged. 

  “I’m Maryn,” she said, casually, as if she hadn’t just told him that a strange man had tried to poison him for no reason. “Ugh! How did you not sense it?” she asked, switching from friendly to exasperated in a flash. He had to admit, she had a point. Why hadn’t he sensed the danger? Why hadn’t he sensed it in Maryn either. She was still talking. 

   “Of course, The Force is so mysterious. Hardly anyone knows how it really works. We only see the tip of the iceberg. Probably no one alive today has read the Jedi texts. I don’t think even your uncle knows where they are.” Ben flinched. He wasn’t comfortable with this person seeming to know so much about him or his origins when he’d never met her before. 

   “There were never any copies made. Foolish, in my opinion. But anyway, you don’t need books to use The Force, it’s instinctual for most people. There has to be a  _ reason  _ though, why you wouldn’t feel it, especially if I did. You’re much stronger in it than me. Like I said, I’m not good for much but picking out other sensies…” She stopped her flow of chatter as if still in mid-thought. Ben wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard someone talk so quickly or so much without seeming to take breath. He didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused. And he still felt a burning fire in his belly at the thought of nearly being poisoned. Why weren’t they still talking about  _ that? _

  “I’m not as concerned with The Force right now as much as I am about someone trying to kill me.”

  “Oh I doubt you would have been killed. Bard Flower juice isn’t usually fatal to humans, but you would have been laid out for some time, that’s certain. Then again, some people have been known to die…”

   “Maryn.” He said her name, firmly. It felt weird in his mouth. He wasn’t used to conversing with new people. She looked struck. Her eyes grew large and Ben was worried she might start to cry. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she switched gears again, without evidence of any emotional residue. Ben damn near admired her for that. It wasn’t a trait he possessed. 

  “Right. I could see why you’d be shaken. You’re welcome by the way.”

  “Thank you…?” It came out as more of a question. He was grateful that this strange person had stepped in to save him, but what he wanted to know was why. Well, why on several counts, really. Why had Taro Bode attempted to poison him? Had he meant to make a kill? Why did this girl help him? And what were they going to do about it? They? He. What was he going to do about it. 

  “Look. He’s done it before. He holds grudges.”

  “How could he hold a grudge against me, he’s never met me?”

  “Well, he must know your father…”

  “Everyone knows my father,” Ben mumbled.

  “Yeah, he’s a reg around here, alright. Probably owes Taro money.”

  “Surely that’s not reason enough to poison me! Over a few credits?”

  “Hmmm, I don’t know. Pretty sound plan to me. You get sick, he tells your parents, he’s touted as a hero, they pay him out. Grudge over.”

  “And he’d do that. Gamble with my life?” Ben couldn’t keep the edge off his voice. The Force inside him threatened to push out through his skin.

  “Well, he  _ is  _ a gambler,” Maryn said, matter-of-factly. She reached over to his untouched mug of ale and started drinking. “Well, if you’re not going to, I will.” Ben slumped back in his seat. This had been a huge mistake. 

  Ben stewed in his own anger and resentment as Maryn continued to talk about the nature of The Force and various types of poisons and various types of ales and spirits. He had a million questions that he dared not ask, lest they lead down an even longer tangential path. He maintained a polite enough gaze with her, a practiced skill, learned from his mother, who’d had her fair share of diplomatic conversations. If this girl wanted to talk, he’d merely listen, or pretend to do so while he plotted his revenge on Taro Bode. The more he thought about it, the more troubled he was by his inability to sense the man’s intent. He’d been wary of the drink offer, but he hadn’t felt the prickle of The Force. Still, it was something for him to ask later. 

  He watched Maryn carefully as she twirled her curly black hair around her dark fingers, absentmindedly. She’d ordered another round of drinks and he sipped while she slammed. He wanted to keep a clear head. He knew what he had to do.

 

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

   He’d taken leave of Maryn cautiously, hoping she wouldn’t follow him out. She didn’t. A pair of Twilek men had roped her into a card game and she’d agreed with vigor. 

  “I’ll see you around, Solo,” she said. He started to protest, as he couldn’t see himself coming back here anytime soon. But a feeling washed over him, subtle but sure. He would see her again. 

  He now leaned against the tile and bricks that made up the outside of the tavern, just outside the door. Just before leaving, he’d made sure to set the plan in motion. He whispered to a cloaked figure at one end of the bar to send the message to Taro Bode that Han Solo had his money. The man didn’t notice the slight wave of Ben’s hand, assuring that the message would indeed be delivered. Ben stood ready in the glow of the sinking Chandrila sun, his nerves in a bunch. He closed his eyes, reaching out for the signature of Taro, and when he felt him coming, Ben snapped to attention, putting some space between himself and the door, but making sure he wouldn’t go unnoticed. As soon as he approached, the look on Taro’s face said he knew that it had been a trick. 

   “Hey, you! Solo scum. Your father owes me a two hundred credits!”

   “Then you’ll have to take it up with him,” Ben snarked, turning away from Taro with purpose. He was offering the man one last chance to mind his own business. Something struck the back of his head, a pebble from the street. Ben spun with his arm raised, sending his attacker flying backwards. Taro Bode landed hard on his backside, letting out a loud grunt. Ben’s brow furrowed, a small smile threatened the corner of his lips. Taro’s face was a mix of shock and anger. Ben moved slowly, deliberately towards him. He stood over the man, his expression inscrutable. Taro froze. Ben extended his hand, offering peace and assistance, or another trick? Taro wasn’t sure and neither was Ben. After a long pause, Taro took his hand and let Ben pull him to standing. He dusted off his vest, afraid to meet the young man’s eyes. Ben felt it, this man’s fear…and he  _ liked  _ it. The rage roiled in him, invigorating him. It no longer scared him and he didn’t shy away from it. Seething, he grabbed Taro Bode by the collar and pulled him close. Ben didn’t realize he had such strength. He knew it mostly came through The Force.

   “If you attempt a stunt like that again, on me or any of my family, It’ll be the last thing you do.” Ben held Taro tight in his grip, enjoying the glint of fear in his beady eyes. Ben let go of the Taro and dropped him. The man looked as though he wanted to run, but Ben’s gaze held him there. He was too afraid. Ben reached into his pocket. Taro trembled, raising his hands in front of himself, fearing the wrath of blaster fire. But Ben tossed a handful of coins in his face. The purple skylight glinted off the metal, and Taro Bode laughed and choked back sobs as he dropped to the ground to pick up his prize.

   “Han Solo’s debt is paid,” Ben said. Taro nodded emphatically. 

   “Yes. Yes,” the man screeched. “Consider it forgiven.” 

 

    Ben turned away, reveling in the small sounds of fear that still emitted form the gambler. His heart pounded in his chest, louder than ever before. A smile played on his lips as he walked towards home. Inside his head he thought he could hear the sound of a distant presence laughing.  


	4. Chapter 4

Over the next few days, Ben felt jumpy and out of sorts. He was awash in guilt, especially when facing his mother. It taxed his mind and spirit to hide from her what he’d done, and despite feeling emboldened and strong in the moment, he found himself depleted. He had hoped to hold on to the newfound sense of confidence and power, but that wasn’t his nature and now he wondered whether he’d forever be chasing it.  
If word had traveled around that young Ben Solo had threatened Taro Bode, it hadn’t come back to him and more importantly it hadn’t reached Leia. He was sure that if Bode had sent a comm to his father, Ben would have heard about it, but then Bode would have had to admit to nearly poisoning him. Han wouldn’t believe whatever story the gambler spun that had Ben attacking him for no reason at all. No. The man had his money and he was alive. That was probably all he cared for. No way to live, in Ben’s opinion. The types of people his father encouraged. The types he took advantage of. The type he used to be. Or perhaps he still is, thought Ben, reminding himself that Han was indeed likely up to some of his old tricks with Lando at this very moment. A pang of regret washed over him that he should have this thought, when in his heart he still wondered what it would be like to be with them. His father could swindle, yes, but though his heart was far from pure, it was good. And Ben’s heart ached for him. He thought to send a message, just because, but decided it would make him seem foolish and childish. If Han missed him and wanted to reach out, he would. Still, Ben soon grew bored without Chewie to spar with and he felt too antsy to sit in the square with Curry every afternoon. I should be flying, he thought, recalling the rush that had accompanied that first excursion. He tried hard to suppress the feeling of anger that came with it. Was he incapable of simply enjoying a fond memory without bitterness creeping in at every crevice? Was that who he was? Who he wanted to be? He let out an audible grunt of frustration, reaching for the datapad to call his father, but a bright blue holo of his mother emerged at the exact same moment.

“Gah!” He shrieked, sending the pad flying. Luckily he reacted quickly enough to stop it in midair before it fell to the ground. He pulled it to him, sighing, mentally constructing a wall to shield Leia from his innermost thoughts, but he sensed she wasn’t trying to reach him there, so he let it go.

“What was that about?” she asked, looking at him with curious eyes.

“I nearly dropped you. I was about to holo dad,” he said. Sometimes with his mother, he couldn’t help but feel that honesty was the best policy. She often had a warmth and depth to her that said he could tell her anything. A warmth that made him resent anyone for ever calling her the “ice princess.” 

“I just spoke with him,” she said. “He sends his love.” Ben smiled, but wished Han had sent it directly. He still might, Ben thought. In the corners of his mind he sensed the darkness, telling him, no, mocking him for thinking so. But Leia was with him now. Even in hologram form, her light burned bright and her smile was enough to snuff it out. “I was hoping you’d join me for dinner at the Senate Building,” Leia continued. Ben could tell she’d hesitated to ask him, convinced he’d be uninterested, afraid that he’d reject her offer, leaving her feeling alone in a crowd with colleagues she admired, but didn’t feel close to. 

“Sure,” he said, attempting to sound casual, when inside his heart leapt. He didn’t love the idea of rubbing elbows with oily politicians, but neither did his mother, though she was good at it. They could commiserate together. She needed him, he felt it. More importantly she wanted him by her side and he felt that too. Ben knew it would mean fielding questions about what it was like to be the son of such important parents and people throwing praise at his feet simply because of who he was, but he could handle it for one night if it meant a smoother evening for her. He could distract the ones who needed distracting while she discussed important policy-making decisions with those she trusted. He knew immediately that this would be his role and for the first time in a long time, he felt ready to accept it. 

“I know it’s not your style…”

“Mom. I’d love to do it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Besides, I miss your company.” 

“Oh, Ben, I know I’ve been so busy…”

“No. You don’t need to apologize. I understand. And I’m happy to help.” He couldn’t look at her. He felt all her relief and guilt and stress almost as though it was his own. If she noticed him averting his eyes, she didn’t mention it and for that he was grateful. 

************************************************************************************************************************************************************

The Senate Building was one of the things Ben loved most about Hanna City. The architecture was a mesh of different styles, as though several designers from separate corners of the galaxy had decided to compromise by sticking all their ideas together in one place. The largest part of the structure was a dome of copper, flanked by spires and turrets of varying metals, glass, and stones. The inside housed even more eclectic features, with marble hallways and sleek passageways living alongside dungeon-esque chambers and twisted wooden columns. Ben supposed it could stand as a great metaphor for the internal melee of politics. But the part he liked most was the way the light filtered through the rotunda, leaving strange shades on the tiled floor. A giant portrait of Mon Mothma hung in the main gallery and Ben appreciated the tangible artistry of paint on parchment. It stood out as unique; a culmination of Chandrilan ideals for a bright, enlightened, cultured world. Ben vacillated between finding it pretentious and extremely moving. The past had always held a particular interest for him. 

“Ben,” a warm voice. He turned to find Mon Mothma herself, as though she’d stepped through the painting into real life. She extended her arms and he hugged her as he had done so man times before, as he had done since he was small. When entering into this fray, he was glad she came to greet them, rather than one of his mother’s adversaries. The Chancellor hugged Leia too, as though they didn’t work together every day and Ben could feel some of his mother’s fears melting away. “We’re so happy you could join us,” Mon Mothma said, smiling serenely at him. “It should be quite the spectacle,” she added. Leia rolled her eyes. 

“At least we’re prepared,” said Leia. 

“These affairs of state can be fun,” Mon Mothma said, “with the right company.”

“And this isn’t?” Ben asked.

“You catch on quick. Sure you don’t see yourself in government?” Mon Mothma winked at Ben. Beside him, he felt his mother tense, but the question didn’t bother him.

“I don’t know what my future holds,” he answered. “I try not to make plans.” Ben expected Mon Mothma to respond with the typical, just like your father, but she didn’t. Another reason to like her.

“These diplomats can be…tricky,” Leia said.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Mon Mothma replied. “Naturally, we’ve got to wine and dine them. But you try putting together a feast for as many different tastes as you can think of in the galaxy and you fast learn you can’t please everyone…”

“So you have to figure out who it is you want to please,” said Ben. Mon Mothma looked at him with awe. He sensed that she wanted to praise him, and though politics was not his great interest, he yearned for it. 

“You’re something else, Ben,” she said, beaming. Leia smiled too, relaxing a little as she saw that Ben was enjoying himself. “Tonight we’re hosting a whole slew of ambassadors from the Outer Rim. Some we believe are friendly towards us and the New Republic, others…well, we can’t make assumptions, but we can’t be too careful, either.” Ben knew there had been rumors of those who were none too friendly. Leia was always careful and secretive, but occasionally he’d heard her discussing things with Han. And while he’d overheard some of her concerns, he’d also sensed her growing fears. For the most part that fear was an ebbing thing that moved like the waves of the Silver Sea. He knew better than to ask for any information she didn’t offer and he practiced that tonight with the Chancellor as well. Agreeing to attend one State dinner as his mother’s guest hardly qualified him for security clearance and Mon Mothma knew what she was doing. She’d share with him just enough. No more, no less. He knew, especially as an outsider, it was best to treat everyone he met with the same respect, regardless of whether or not they deserved it. He knew this method often annoyed his mother. She hated to show deference to those she despised, yet she had been trained to do so, nearly from birth. Her abilities in The Force had served her well, all her life and only more recently had she fully started to understand just how well. If she could do it, so could Ben. 

The long black table that filled the hall was set in elegant fashion, such that Ben had never seen. He’d only ever imagined this sort of display. He smiled as he observed it all, thinking of how his father would roll his eyes. The plates and utensils shined under the light of candle droids which flickered gently. The table held platters filled with fruits from all over the galaxy, piles so high and with such artistry that Ben wasn’t sure which arrays were for decoration and which were for eating. But there was one aspect of the arrangement that held no space for his cynicism. One wall of the chamber was made entirely of glass, the glorious purple sunset over the sea on full display. 

“Wow,” he said, moving to the window for a better look. He felt drawn to it as though The Force had willed it. As much as he complained about Chandrila and Hanna City, there were worse places in the galaxy. The view humbled him. He’d been to Leia’s office before, which also overlooked the sea, but never during a sunset.

“Stunning, isn’t it?” asked Mon. Her pride in her homeworld radiated off of her and Ben experienced a familiar pang of guilt for ever feeling trapped there. 

“If the ambassadors are unhappy with the food, they’ll at least have a pleasant view,” Said Leia. She placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder and he looked down at her with a grin. This was the most time they’d spent together in a while. He couldn’t quite remember the last time. At times, a thought like this would make him sad, but at the moment, he was nothing but content. He knew she’d wanted him take after her in political prowess, hoping for so long that his interests and talents would bring him along with her, into the fray. But eventually, she’d stopped asking. Now, he simply felt pleased that he hadn’t driven her away completely and that she’d wanted to ask him this time. Tonight, she had no agenda to coax him into the legislative life. She was simply a mother who wanted to spend time with her son. 

“Our guests should be arriving shortly,” said Mon Mothma, pulling on the edges of her dress. A superficial move, she already looked pristine. A nervous tick, perhaps. Ben understood that. “I think we’ve done all we can.”

“It’ll be great,” said Ben, reassuring her. 

“Let’s hope so,” Mon said, with a smile. 

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

The other Senators arrived in varying states of distress. Some were calm and even-keeled while others looked like they hadn’t slept in days. Ben wondered, not for the first time, who exactly they were hosting. He’d find out soon enough. A handful of legislators went straight for the wine. A few stopped to chat with him. A fair amount showed surprise that he existed, while others went out of their way to treat him like royalty. Both reactions made him feel deeply uncomfortable. It was impossible to tell who was genuine. He glanced at his mother as she greeted her colleagues. A nod of the head here, a smile there, a gentle pat on the shoulder, a compliment given. She’s a natural, Ben thought. Because of The Force and years of conditioning, and some of Luke’s guidance. Ben nearly let out an audible laugh. A moment came to mind, when Luke had been teaching Leia ways to curb her temper, to calm herself. “A lifelong pursuit,” Luke had said. It had been amusing, to say the least, causing both Ben and his father to stifle laughter that would have been antithetical to Luke’s cause. Still, Leia was good at it. Almost like she had an on-off switch. Ben admired her. 

“Alright, everyone,” Mon Monthma said, gathering everyone together, to listen. It was surprisingly informal, but it worked. Ben supposed that they couldn’t be performative all the time, especially not in the final moments before a big to do. “As we well know, The Republic stands on solid ground. Solid, yes, but thin. We’ve all heard the whisperings of Imperial loyalists scattered to the wind, whisperings that have grown louder in recent years. But tonight, we are unaware. We don’t give weight to rumors in the Senate and we don’t assume that those in the far reaches are there to hide. We know the value of these planets and their people and we want what they want-that is, however much they want to be involved in our legislative process, we give them the opportunity. Of course, we want them to join us, but we must make it their idea.”

“This Vossian blue flower wine should help in that case,” a voice from the back. Ben recognized Zathan Erb, a fellow Chandrilan from, with a penchant for pubs. A few people laughed, Mon Mothma included. Ben marveled that the chancellor could at once hold a serious demeanor in tandem with such a lightness. It occurred to Ben that this was who his mother most hoped to emulate in these situations. Ben thought this was indeed a smart move, but he also knew that his mother was her own force. The idea that she’d ever appear as anyone but herself was pretty funny to him.  
The crowd of senators dissipated after that, with everyone going to their agreed upon posts for the arrival of the ambassadors. Ben took another long look at the sunset. It was nearly pure gold now, shot through with purple and a thin line of orange. 

“You ready?” he asked Leia as she moved towards him.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“So that’s a yes,” he said. “You’re always ready.”

“And you…you don’t need to perform, Ben, so you needn’t worry about that. Just be yourself,” she said. But Ben heard the message in her head that was just for him, but if you happen to sense foul play or any wayward thoughts against the republic, remember it…

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Server droids moved through the throng of senators and guests with trays of food and drink. Ben held tight to his one glass of Tarissian red wine, it’s taste just bitter enough to keep him from drinking it too quickly. He wanted to maintain his mental acuity while still appearing to let loose. Leia had told him stories about past meetings. Her parent’s strategy had been to save the strong stuff for guests, while they themselves partook only of that which wouldn’t diminish their sharpness. A dirty trick. And a smart one. No one paid particular attention to him. Though he was young, there were actually some senators younger than he was. Naboo sometimes had leaders and representatives as young as twelve. How thankful he was that Chandrila wasn’t that way. If it had been, he would have undoubtedly tried to join in on his father’s missions as a means of escape. Most certainly, his lineage would have had people making plans for him from the start. Not that he’d fully escaped that, anyway, but he imagined he had more time to breathe than those kids.  
He moved about with confidence, trying to mimic his mother’s posture, but it was harder than it looked. Standing tall, for him, usually meant towering over many, something he wasn’t quite comfortable with. Here, however, there were representatives from so many different planets that he was far from the tallest. He picked a small piece of food from one of the passing trays. It looked like a tiny slug and to his chagrin it began to wiggle in his fingers. He knew better than to make an outward show of disgust and was even more aware that hesitating would show dishonor to whichever world the snack came from. He popped it into his mouth without much thought and was pleasantly surprised to find the movement stopped instantly. Despite the slimy outside, the texture was actually crispy and the flavor inoffensive. In fact, there wasn’t much flavor at all, aside from a saltiness that mad Ben think of the sea.

“Crufters,” said a voice behind him. Ben turned to see a man…well, was he human? Ben couldn’t quite tell. In any case, he was tall and thin with a gaunt face, but cheery eyes. He dressed in long red robes that shimmered as he moved, easily the most formal of anyone here. “From my home world. A delicacy, so they say…though if you grew up poor, like me…let’s just say, they weren’t on the menu.” Ben didn’t know how to respond, so he took a sip of wine. The last sip. 

“Wine on the other hand,” the man said, pulling two glasses from another tray, “Wine came cheap.” He held one glass under his nose, closing his eyes as he swirled the contents gently. “Authentic Tubrerian Gold. the finest.” He gave the other to Ben, who now had two glasses. He searched for a place to put the empty one, without making too big of a deal out of it. Thankfully a droid collecting empties swept it from his grasp. Ben copied the man in smelling the wine, though he didn’t smell anything in particular and didn't know what he was supposed to smell. He took a small taste. This one was sweet with soft bubbles and an earthy note that reminded him of balmgrass. It was good. 

“I’m Ben,” he said, extending a hand. The man looked mildly amused, but pleased. If shaking hands was a foreign custom, he didn’t show it, for he took Ben’s hand in his own, and shook it, striking just the right balance between firm and gentle. The man’s skin felt dry and scaly against Ben’s and another sensation accompanied the touch. Ben felt the goosebumps rise on his arms, and for a split second, his head felt afire. The man withdrew his hand, seemingly unaware, which was for the better, lest Ben insult an unassuming dignitary.

“Will you…will you excuse me for a moment?” Ben asked, as politely as he could. “Strong,” he added, pointing to the wine.

“Yes,” said the man, nodding in agreement. “I’m sure we’ll have another chance to speak, Ben.” 

Something about the way the man said his name, not disquieting exactly, but…did he know this man? Had they met before? He didn’t think so. Surely he’d remember such a person. A bead of sweat stood out on Ben’s head, though the rest of him felt chilled, like after a dark feeling. His back turned from the man, he now allowed a confused expression to cross his face. He didn’t dare turn back around, as much as he wanted to. He found Leia in the crowd, standing by the window. Stars began to shine in the darkening sky, as the last remnants of colorful sunset disappeared.

“Ah, Ben, here you are. I was just telling Ambassador Villa about your penmanship. Ben…are you alright?” Her shell of diplomatic manners melted at the sight of him, distressed.”

“Yes,” Ben said, feeling stupider by the minute. “I just had a sip of this wine and…” Ambassador Villa began to laugh. Leia turned to him, the edge of fury in her eyes.

“Tubrerion Gold, I take it…you’re not the first to find it…potent.” Both Ben and Leia relaxed. 

“Potent is right,” said Ben. He set the glass down on a tray of empty ones and turned his attention back to Ambassador Villa. “Forgive me.” Villa waved his apology off. 

“It’s happened to the best of us,” he said. “Now, your mother was telling me all about your interest in calligraphy. Not strange for a young man here on planet as cultured as Chandrila, but in the far reaches… quite rare. Did you know that Korriban has a secret society for those of us who still practice with pen and ink?” Ben shook his head. “Well, I say, secret, but it’s an open one,” Villa continued. “On our world, we believe we, the society, are responsible for uncovering and interpreting old documents. Our members boast fluency in at least one hundred languages among us and the ability to translate reaches farther than that.” 

“Very impressive,” Ben said, genuinely interested in the work. Leia looked pleased and that pleased him. In truth, Ben already knew quite a bit about this group of Korribanians, but he knew it would have a great impacter on diplomacy if Ambassador Villa could explain it himself. He was about to launch further into the topic when a sleek and shiny server droid entered to announce the main dinner. They took their seats, all arranged carefully by chancellor herself. Ben and Leia were seated next to each other and across from a delegation Tatooine. Very smart. Ben smiled at Mon, who sat at the head of the table and she winked at him.  
After a grand toast and the ceremonial cutting of a roasted Eligg, the feast was underway and everyone chattered away to those nearest them. When he felt the moment presented himself, Ben leaned into his mother, feigning a stretch borne of too much food and drink. 

“Who’s that?” he asked, subtly nodding his head down the table towards the red robed man. He looked deep in conversation with Senator Drolley. 

“I don’t know,” said Leia. “I didn’t meet him. But I believe he’s from somewhere in Wild Space. Why? Did you sense something?”

“I’m not sure,” Ben said. He wanted to tell her that his strange spell from earlier hadn’t been wine related at all, that it was the result of his interaction with this man. But it sounded ridiculous in his head and he wasn’t sure. 

“Well, I trust you,” she said. “We’ll find out more.” Those words, I trust you, meant more to him than he could say.


	5. Chapter 5

Ben sat writing in the dining room, with his booted feet up on the table. As he leaned further back in the chair, it rocked on its legs and he casually held it in place with The Force to keep himself from falling. It was almost second nature, as he often sat like this when no one was around. Deenine had all but given up admonishing him for it. He held a heavy book in his lap, using it as a writing surface. Books were out of fashion in the galaxy at large, but were still considered sacred on Chandrila. Hanna City boasted one of the only libraries with actual texts. Ben had to admit, it was a perk. Of course, writing was also rare, but Ben loved the tactile nature of it, how he could get lost in the lines he made with his pen. It was meditative and also he felt like he was creating something, contributing, preserving a lost art. His hand moved steadily across the paper as he attempted to copy notes from an old flight manual on an Akivan Jungle Hopper. Ambassador Villa had pulled him aside after the dinner meeting at the Senate to elaborate on some of his work and had sent him home with ideas for books that he could use to practice both his calligraphy and translation skills. This particular manual was in several languages, and Ben worked carefully to write out each one as clearly as he could. The translation was simple enough, as the instructions were simple. And wrong, Ben thought. He’d never flown an Akivan Jungle Hopper, but he knew flight basics and enough to know when one could make “improvements.” This manual treated the readers like fools. Still, he copied the words as they were, enjoying the focused attention. He’d barely had time to spare a thought for his encounter with the strange man from Wild Space. He kept himself busy with this task, grateful to Villa for inspiring the work and grateful his mother hadn’t yet asked further into the incident. He dreaded the day when she’d come home with information about the man. He almost wished to learn nothing, that way it could remain in his imagination; he could be just another silly young man who’d taken too much strong wine. 

Ben’s concentration snapped at the sound of the door opening with a bang. He sat bolt upright, swinging his legs off the table and knocking over his bottle of ink in the process. He cursed under his breath as he sprang up to clean it.

“Chewie!” he exclaimed, as the Wookiee traipsed into the apartments looking angry and tired. Relief washed over Ben. He’d expected it to be Leia. He wiped up the ink with a towel, brushing off Dee who’d jumped in to help as if from nowhere. Chewbacca gestured frantically, speaking in frantic Shyriiwook.

“Slow down, pal. What?” Ben asked, soothing his friend. He finally gleaned that his father was back on the ship, making a repair. They’d had an argument, him and Chewie, with Han wanting to fix something on his own. Typical. “Well, cool off here,” he said. “I’ll go down.”

Ben walked out into the street, moving towards the hangar at a clipped pace. He was happy knowing that he’d soon see his father, even if he was likely to be in a foul mood and even if they hadn’t left things perfectly sound at their last meeting. He entered the Falcon cautiously.

“Wrench!” his father yelled as soon as he entered. Ben furrowed his brow, but complied. “Oh, Ben…I thought you were Chewie…never mind.” Ben handed over the wrench, his expression not changing. 

“How was it?” he asked, after a brief moment of silence.

“We managed,” said Han as he attempted to tighten a loose bolt. 

“That won’t work,” said Ben venturing closer. He put his hand out for the wrench and Han handed it over with a sigh. Ben turned the tool with ease and the bolt snapped in place.

“Huh,” said Han, looking impressed. “Did you…?” he asked, waving his hand awkwardly indicate using The Force. Ben shrugged it off. They stood for a moment in silence. Then they embraced and both immediately began talking over the other.

“I’m sorry I left in such a…”

“I don’t even know why I was mad…”

“You woulda loved it…”

“Are we okay?”

“We’re always okay, kid.”

Sometimes Ben found this phase from his father dismissive, a glossing over of Ben’s feelings, damage control. But this didn’t feel like lip service. No matter what passed between them, to Han, it was always okay and right now that struck Ben as genuine. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re back,” said Ben. He fought the urge to look at his feet. Instead he maintained steady eye contact with his father, who smiled. 

“Me too,” said Han. He placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “So, I suppose you’re itching to get started…”

“Huh?” said Ben.

“With your end of our bargain,” Han said, gesturing around the ship. “The old girl’s a special kind of filthy after what we went through. You know where the supplies are.” And with a flash that famous mischievous Han Solo grin and a solemn pat on the back, his father was gone. Ben was too shocked to scowl. Instead he let out a laugh and then another until he was bowled over in a fit he couldn’t contain. He had to sit down by the Dejarik table to catch his breath, taking deep inhales like his mother and Luke had shown him when preparing to meditate. His newfound calm was broken, almost as soon as it was gained, by the sound of boots on metal. Was Han coming back to reveal it all as a joke? Ben tensed and stood ready, but in fact he was not ready for what appeared. 

“Heya!” Mary Ambrose stood in the doorway with a large satchel slung across her shoulder. 

“How did you…” Ben moved quickly, past her towards the door, then turned to face her. She looked so out of place outside of the dingy light of the bar. It occurred to him that he’d never seen her out in the world. 

“It was open,” she said with a shrug. “Anyway, I figured you could use some help…”

“Help?” Ben repeated.

“God, this place is a dump,” she said as she looked around.“I love it! I can’t believe I’m standing inside the Millennium Falcon.”

“Neither can I” said Ben. Maryn dropped the satchel to the floor with a clang. She moved around with an ownership Ben didn’t even feel. She pressed a button by the Dejarik table and a holo popped up of a long-forgotten game.

“Don’t!” Ben screeched. “Don’t touch that. That game’s still in play. Chewbacca will kill me if you delete it.” Ben scrambled to save the file and flipped it off. “In fact, maybe you shouldn’t touch anything. “Maryn didn’t seem to hear. Or was she purposefully ignoring him? She ran a finger across the wall and inspected it. There was some dirt on her finger, but the place on the wall where she’d touched looked no different. 

“This stuff’s really caked on,” she said. 

“How did you know I’d be here?” asked Ben, trying hard to moderate his tone.

“They were talking down at the tavern, friends of your father. News travels fast with that circle. They said he was back and I heard them laughing about the job he had in store for you.” Ben didn’t know what to make of this. The idea that is father might talk about him to his friends wasn’t something he’d ever considered. He didn’t know whether to be offended, amused, or touched. Maybe all three. 

“Then they didn’t tell you that I’m not allowed to have help…not even from Chewie, so…thanks, but…”

“That’s not what your father said.” 

“You…talked to my father?”

“Well yeah, it was his idea.” 

“His idea. That you’d help me…”

“Looks like you could use it.”

Ben had to sit back down. So his father had sent this girl he hardly knew to help him with his punishment. It didn’t take a sensie to know what his father was doing. This was a set-up. It hurt Ben to think that Han felt he needed help in this arena. Did Ben really seem so inept? He shoved the thought down, unwilling to truly examine it. Then another thought flashed across his mind. If his father knew Maryn, did he know about the situation with Taro Bode and the poison?  
“Does he, does my dad know what happened to me, or what almost happened?”

“Oh, with Taro? No. I mean, I didn’t tell him. People talk, but I haven’t heard anyone mention it. I know Taro wouldn’t. I think you scared him pretty thoroughly.”

“Good.”

“Well, anyway, if you’d rather not have my help, I’ll be on my way.”

“No!” said Ben. “You can stay.” A smile spread across Maryn’s face and she began rustling through her bag in no time, bringing out several bottles of cleaning solution and some sponges. Ben didn’t know what he’d imagined cleaning the Falcon would be, but even knowing intellectually that it would involve a lot of physical labor, it hadn’t quite struck him just how much. 

“This is the strong stuff,” said Maryn. “Smells like Wampa guts, but it’ll cut through almost anything.”

“Got anything a little less potent?” asked Ben. “I know my dad. I have to clean for punishment, sure, but he actually kinda likes it this way. It can’t be too shiny.” 

“Oh don’t worry. There’s not a solvent in the galaxy that could make this old girl shine again.”

“Again?”

“Sure. I heard she used to be pristine.”

“Not this ship,” said Ben. “At least, not as long as I’ve been around.”

“Well, you’re only what, sixteen? There’s probably a whole history here you don’t even know.”

“If you’re going to talk about the Kessel Run, believe me, I’ve heard it,” said Ben, smiling in spite of himself.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Maryn said. “Here. This oughta take care of it.” She tossed him a green bottle with a cork. 

“Is this…? This is the poison Taro tried to kill me with,” said Ben. He pulled the cork and smelled it, immediately recoiling. To think, he’d almost downed the stuff. 

“We don’t for sure if his intent was to kill you,” Maryn replied. Ben rolled his eyes. 

“We’d better get to work.”

They scrubbed the surfaces of the ship with vigor, the smells for Maryn’s cleaning solutions mingling together not unlike the smells at the tavern, though decidedly more pleasant, for the most part. Ben found he enjoyed the task more than he’d expected to. It afforded him the same kind of mindful attention he achieved when working on his calligraphy. He wasn’t wrapped up in worry or shame or even excitement. Of course he’d tell Han it was awful and would complain as much as suited a proper punishment. Suddenly, it occurred to him that maybe Han knew Ben would enjoy this type of task, that it wasn’t quite a punishment at all.

“This escape pod looks like a coffin!” Maryn exclaimed.

“It’s not the original,” said Ben. Maryn scrunched up her nose in disapproval. “Here, look.” Ben took a spray bottle from Maryn and sprayed a generous amount of the liquid over the side of the escape pod. He wiped it clean, revealing letters in a pointed, yet elegant script. “I’ll have to touch this up,” Ben said, running a hand over the lettering.

“You wrote this?” She asked. Ben nodded. “What language is that?”

“Olys Corellisi. Old Corellian. My father has no great love for his homeworld, but he honors it in his own way. I figured he wouldn’t mind.”

“And what’s it say?”

“Property of Han Solo. In case he ever loses it.”

“I’d let this one go, if it were me. Find one that’s less creepy. One that matches the rest of the ship, maybe”

“That’s the thing,” said Ben. “This ship doesn’t need to match. It doesn’t need to make sense. It’s a bit of everything and everywhere.”

“Just like your dad,” she said. He nodded. “I think that’s lucky,” she continued, “My dad…he practically lives at the tavern, well…so do I.” Ben turned, inquisitively. “He owns the place.” 

“That’s why you’re there so much,” he said.

“You’re not the only kid who’s chasing after their father’s affection.”

“I’m not…” he began to argue, but she looked at him knowingly and he knew she could sense the truth, no matter how much he wished to hide it. “A kid,” he finished. Maryn shrugged. She didn’t press the issue, she just went back to cleaning.

“Ben, there you are!” Curry appeared in the doorway clutching his side, panting. “I’ve been looking for…am I interrupting something?” He looked from Ben to Maryn in a way Ben did not like. 

“No, you’re just in time to help us.” Ben tossed a rag at his friend.

“With what? We gonna fly this thing?”

“Clean,” said Ben. Curry shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around the ship with skepticism. 

“Is that what you’ve been doing?”

“Yes,” Ben answered.

“Huh. Looks like the same dust bucket to me…”

“Well we don’t want it too clean. Just enough so I’ll be cleared to fly.”

“That sounds like more of something an underachiever like me would say,” Curry said. “Tell me what to do. If it gets you behind the controls of this girl faster, than I’m all in.” 

The three of them worked together with relative ease, with Curry attempting to flirt with Maryn as she either cluelessly or deftly deflected. By the time they were done, Ben wasn’t sure how much time had passed. 

“How do you know we’re done?” Curry asked. Ben shrugged.

“I just know how it’s supposed to look,” he said. 

“Huh,” said Curry. “Well, if you say so, I take you at your word. Anyone else hungry?” Curry patted his belly as though it protruded over his belt, even though he was thin as a rail. Ben’s stomach rumbled. He could definitely eat. 

“I bet Deenine would make us something,” said Ben as he stretched his arms.

“I should get back to the tavern,” Maryn said. “I’m supposed to be serving lunch. Thanks for letting me help you, Ben.” She gathered up the cleaning supplies she’d borrowed from the bar and began walking down the ramp. “And nice to meet you, Curry. And next time, if you want to ask me out, just ask.” With that she was gone. Curry stood with his mouth agape then he turned to his friend.

“I’m not…I wasn’t thinking about…I’m not gonna…”

“You can. You should,” said Ben with a shrug.

“I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not,” said Ben. “She’s nice, yeah, but she’s not for me.”

“Look, if you ask me all that A Jedi can never marry stuff is pretty outdated.”

“I didn’t ask you,” said Ben as they walked through out of the ship out into the hangar.

“Aw come on, Ben. I know you take The Force seriously, and that’s great, but don’t you ever want to have a little fun?”

“I have fun!” Ben retorted. Curry smirked and Ben ignored it because he knew he should. His friend was trying to push his buttons. Sometimes Ben felt like Curry must get a secret thrill from getting a rise out of him. Today he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. The Falcon was as clean is she was ever going to get. After lunch he’d check for any maintenance and add fresh fuel. Then he’d the “finished” product to Han. “Look Curry, you can have your girl, I have mine.” He said.

“Who? Oh, what…the Falcon?” Ben didn’t know whether to roll his eyes or nod, so he did both. 

“And what a girl she is!” Ben mimicked a flying motion with his arms outstretched. 

“A little old for you, though,” said Curry with a grin. 

“I hate you,”

“I know.”


	6. Chapter 6

The next few weeks crept by slowly for Ben, with Han promising another go in the Falcon just as soon as he returned from his latest run in the outer rim. For once it seemed as though his father wouldn’t be delayed or sidetracked. Han was set to return on time and still the wait was agonizing. 

“I don’t see why you don’t just take her out for a quick spin and return her...gently,” said Curry as they lazed about in the square with the Chandrilan sun blazing above. The repetitiveness of the scene irked Ben, especially set against Curry’s nudges to rebel. He already felt antsy enough. He didn’t need encouragement. Say it again in just the right way and Ben might be off amongst the stars without so much as a “see ya later,” note to his family. 

“My father would know,” said Ben, as much to himself as to Curry.

“How? You’re dad doesn’t have The Force.”

“A good pilot doesn’t have to use The Force to know when his ship has been stolen by someone else. Also, everyone has The Force. It’s everywhere. Just because you can’t use it that doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

“Yes, Master Ben.” Curry bowed as he spoke, his head lowering below his knees. He had to do an awkward little jump to keep from falling on his face. 

“Ha,” laughed Ben, “Master. That’s a good one. I’m not even a student yet. Maybe I never will be. Luke’s promised to help me often enough, but then he only passes through every so often. No matter what he’s promised there always seems to be something else more pressing.” 

“Well, of course there’s something more pressing. He’s Luke Skywalker!”

“Yeah, he is. Luke Skywalker.” Ben’s chest tightened as he spoke. These thoughts were ones he rarely allowed himself to think, let alone share with someone else. He’d worked diligently to keep his mother from sensing the disappointment he felt each time his uncle visited Chandrila only to dangle the carrot of proper training in front of him before disappearing again on whatever noble quest he’s given himself. Ben’s limbs sung, as if he could feel the blood pumping below the skin. The space behind his eyes burned. He knew enough to calm himself before losing it in front of Curry. These thoughts...well, they weren’t welcome ones. They sat poorly with him like a bit of cream gone poorly sour. And the more he allowed them to stew and simmer, the closer they came to boiling over. He kept his face still and breathed deeply in and out through his nose. Leia had taught him that. 

“Well, maybe you don’t need a teacher,” Curry said.

“Jedi need teachers,” replied Ben. “That’s what makes them Jedi, what separates them. Without training I’ll just continue on as a well of untapped potential until… who knows…? I’ll be aimless. Powerful and aimless.”

“Sounds like a winning combination,” Curry said. Ben managed to flash a smile at his friend. He wanted to bring the conversation back to something light, but he wasn’t sure how. “Anyway, of the two of us, you’re the least aimless. At least you can fly. And you have famous parents. You’ll be a shoe in at any training facility in the galaxy.” Ben winced at the mention of his famous parents but he didn’t admonish his friend. Curry knew better than to make it a regular thing. Ben could sense Curry’s nerves bunching as soon as he’d said it, but to his friend’s credit, he didn’t stumble. Ben admired that. He had a friend who was quick to apologize, but not too quick. And he certainly didn’t make an effort to spare Ben’s feelings at all times. It made Ben feel almost normal, whatever that was. Ben felt Curry’s tension melt as time passed without Ben mentioning the comment. 

As the sun climbed higher into the sky, more people spilled into the square. Exhausted city workers, urban loafers with too much money and time, business people, and even the occasional Senate staffer loosening their robes as well as their facial features. Ben had glimpses of thoughts from all of them, swimming in his head at once. A cacophony of human longing, striving, hopes, fears, plans, chores to be done, meals to be cooked. But among those usual notes he heard a voice-distant, yet somehow close- strong, discordant against the humdrum hum daily Chandrilan life. 

Ben Solo. Ben. Ben.

His name. Not urgent, but intense. Ben froze. The sound reverberated around him. Through him. Within him? Without? He scanned the crowd, his senses suddenly hyper alert, as though he’d just turned the dial to adjust the focus on a pair of macrobinoculars to zero in on something. The hair on his arms prickled as he attempted to zero in on the owner of that voice. All around, people smiled, laughed, scowled, or grumbled in slow motion. They moved about without acknowledging the voice that so clearly called to him. 

“Ben. Ben!” Curry. Had it been his friend calling him all along. No. The look on Curry’s face told Ben all he needed to know. The world snapped back into place and he now saw it wasn’t only his friend who looked on with concern. Others gazed at him with curiosity or shock. He was standing atop the fountain, perched on a thin strip of stone that no creature of his size should attempt to stand on. Both of Curry’s hands were extended upwards as if to catch him. Ben brushed Curry’s hands away and used the structure of the stone to pull himself down. He moved slowly more to ease the tension of the crowd and his friend. He could have easily swung down and landed gently on the cobblestones below without much effort, but that might draw even more attention. He pretended to struggle enough that it seemed completely natural to the slew of onlookers who didn’t know he was Ben Solo, wild force user. 

“Are you okay?” asked Curry, beads of sweat running down his brow, matting his hair to his head. “I thought you’d lost it. You just sort of...went somewhere else.” Ben held both hands and against his belly, feeling the breath rise and fall. His heart still pounded just above his fingers. People were beginning to look away again, either embarrassed for him or disinterested now that he appeared to be out of immediate danger. 

“I’m fine,” Ben told Curry, dismissing the concerns with a wave of his hand, but he paced with heavy steps in a way that belied this claim. “I should probably get home, though. I forgot I told my mom I’d help her with something. Why don’t you come with me? We can play a game of Sabacc, you can stay for dinner.” Ben knew Curry could easily detect the lie. He knew how odd the suggestion of a card game was, coming from him. He also knew there was a fifty percent chance Curry would accept the offer and then Ben would have to follow through on the game and dinner not to mention come up with some way he could pretend to help Leia. But Curry shook his head right away.

“Maybe another time, Ben. I should probably get home soon, too.” Curry spoke with hurt in his voice, he didn’t even try to hide it. Here was another instance where Ben was pushing him away rather than letting him in. Ben felt the hurt too. For many reasons he chose not to confide in his friend. He told himself it was for Curry’s protection, that he didn’t need to know the depths of Ben’s trouble. But deep down, Ben knew the truth. He didn’t like being vulnerable. To be vulnerable was to invite mockery or worse, pity. 

“Another time, then,” said Ben. He clapped a hand gently on Curry’s shoulder. He gazed at his friend, trying to convey that he’d make up for this somehow, even if it meant he had to play Sabacc. “I’ll be happy to beat you, then,” he added with a wry smile. For levity. Ben was grateful that Curry returned the smile when he had every reason to call him out instead.

“As if,” Curry, said. “When have you ever beat me cards? Come to think of it, when have you ever played me?” 

“Well, you’re luck is about to change, my friend.” Ben waved goodbye to Curry as he left the square, turning on his heel to run only when his friend was out of sight. It didn’t help to run, not really. Instead it fed his previous anxiety and curiosity about the strange experience with the voice. 

By the time he arrived home he wondered if it had been real at all. Maybe I’m losing it, he thought to himself as he ascended the stairs. Maybe he’d lost it long ago. Perhaps every instance where he’d felt the dark voice within him had been fabricated. 

"Was that what that was? Who I heard calling me?” He asked himself.

“Who was calling you, Master Ben?” Threepio asked, cocking his head to one side in a concerned fashion. But then, Ben though Threepio always looked concerned. 

What? Oh, nothing, Threepio. I was only talking to myself.”

“Talking to yourself? Oh dear. That’s never a good sign.”

“You talk to yourself all the time.”

“Well, yes, but I’m not human. It’s far more worrisome in your kind, I’m afraid.”

“I’m okay, Threepio. You don’t need to worry about me.” Telling Threepio not to worry was like telling Han not to try talking his way out of sticky situations. 

“If you say so,” said Threepio, shaking his head. 

Ben disappeared into his room, immediately plopping onto his bed and closing his eyes. He clasped his hands over his belly and concentrated on the flow of his breath, connecting to the deep well within him. He felt the power immediately and with the familiarity of an old friend. Tapping into the Force on purpose wasn’t something he did as often as he should for someone who hoped to sharpen his skills. It felt different than his raw outbursts, more concentrated. Ben had nearly forgotten how much he liked this kind of control, but he could not forget the reason that kept him from practicing regularly. Fear. Of the darkness. Yet, here he was, confronting it. Wasn’t he? Whispers of the voice from earlier echoed in his mind and because of his connection to the force, reverberated through his entire being. Yet he couldn’t quite tell if it sounded like the dark voice or not.

The call of “Ben Solo!” had been clear as day. He’d been so convinced it was coming from the crowd. No, he decided. It didn’t sound like the dark voice, not exactly. But there was still something so familiar about it. It didn’t sound like the voice he was used to hearing, but he’d heard it before. He just couldn’t think of where. For the millionth time, Ben wondered if Luke had ever experienced anything like this. Hell, he wondered if Leia had. He sat up quickly at the thought. Shouldn’t he simply ask her this if he was curious? Why couldn’t he? Ben rested his head in his hands torn by two seemingly impossible ideas. Ask Luke for help or ask his mother.   
For so long, Ben resented Luke’s being away on adventures in the same way he resented Han. Ever since Ben could remember, his uncle had been searching for lost Jedi artifacts and remnants of old sacred spaces. He’d struck out on his own and with Lor San Tekka, who’d first taught Ben to read Jedi and Sith symbols alike. Tales of these journeys had sparked Ben’s interest in history and lore. But of course, just like with his father, when Ben asked to come along he was shunted. “One day,” they’d say with a laugh or a twinkle of the eye. Then they’d be off again and Ben would be left behind to keep dreaming...of flying, of finding some ancient Jedi text, of practicing with a real lightsaber. 

Ben sighed. He didn’t like how all this pent-up anger ade him feel. And really, why was he so upset? He had flown after all, in the Falcon! He’d recently helped his mother with her diplomatic affairs. After all, Luke wasn’t a mind reader. Well, he was, in a way, but Ben felt sure Luke had never read his mind. How could he know Ben’s interest if Ben never voiced it. Ben imagined calling to Luke, communicating with him across the stars the way his mother did, but he quickly grew sheepish at the thought. It seemed like more of a twin thing, their special bond. It felt like an intrusion of privacy to try it. Therefore he decided to take pen to paper and write to his uncle the old fashioned way. Threepio would know how to get it to him. 

Ben went to the kitchen to prepare a caf for himself, shooing away DP-9 as she attempted to help or takeover.

“I don’t need a droid to make my caf for me,” said Ben. “I can take care of it myself.”

“No need to be rude, young Solo. I’m here to serve.”

“I know, Dee. But some things I prefer to handle on my own. I always make my own caf.”

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but when his mother knocked on the door that evening the floor was littered with crumpled pieces of paper and the space between his eyes ached. All he had to show for his afternoon of work was “Dear Uncle Luke,” in elegant handwriting at the top of the page. He’d been contemplating between opening the letter with, “I wouldn’t reach out unless it was urgent,” and “Don’t be alarmed, it’s nothing urgent.” He really wasn’t sure which applied in this case and he didn’t want to divulge anything in the letter itself. He wanted to entice Luke to speak with him in person. 

“What’s all this?” asked Leia gesturing to the mess. Ben thought briefly of lying but decided instead to tell the truth, at least a partial one.

“I thought I’d write to Luke. It’s been some time since we’ve seen him and well...I wanted to ask him something.” 

Leia was perceptive enough not to inquire about what Ben’s questions might be. She knew she hardly had all the answers for him. Ben was struck by her grace and humility in that moment. Despite their shared strength in the Force, they rarely discussed it. If they needed something from the other in the form of channelling, they didn’t hesitate. But as far as exploring the abilities themselves or the nature of the Force, the subject simply wasn’t broached.   
Leia had taught him some simple breathing exercises, when she’d noticed him losing control. But more times than not she’d been cowed by his raw strength. Ben knew she wouldn’t admit it openly, but he could sense it. Not only because of his ability, but also because she was his mother and he understood the look of fear in her eyes even before she was aware of it. She had no idea It never lasted long and he felt the guilt wash over her as well, often accompanied by his own shame. He didn't ask for this power. He would gladly be rid of it if it meant a bit more normalcy, but as such that was not an option.  
“I miss him too,” said Leia. “I’m sure you’ll think of something brilliant to say to him. Just speak from the heart.” She didn’t offer to contact her brother for him. She knew it was Ben’s business, not hers. Ben smiled. His stomach growled audibly and Leia suppressed a laugh.

“Hungry?” she asked.

“Well, maybe I would think better on a full stomach,” he conceded.

“I’ll have Dee make something for us,” Leia offered.

“Actually, what if we went out to eat?”

“Hmmm. It’s been a while since we’ve done that, the two of us. You’re not too embarrassed to be seen eating a meal with your mom?” Leia ruffled Ben’s hair and hugged his head to her waist. 

“Not if you’re buying,” he said, pushing himself from his chair, eyes full of mischief. Leia managed to both roll her eyes and smile at him. 

************************************************************  
Jorie’s was a tiny beachside restaurant known for their passable balmroot tea and under-spiced clam broth. The food, however uninspiring, was made up for by the spectacular view of the Silver Sea. Customers could sit inside by big open windows, or they could opt to eat outside on the pier. Ben and Leia had opted to sit outside with the wind rustling their hair. Despite the blandness of the menu offerings, Ben loved Jorie’s. He found it consistent, comforting, and not at all pretentious, the polar opposite of so many other Chanrilan establishments. Most of all, Ben loved Jorie herself, an old woman who spun fantastic tales about Jedi history and never apologized for the lack of flavor or the terrible service. It was the first restaurant he remembered Leia taking him to eat as a boy. They’d sit there together at the end of the pier, eating undercooked noodles and Leia would point out each star to him while Jorie corrected her incorrectly.   
“Some things never change,” said Leia as Jorie stalked away, mumbling something about the constellations and politicians. Ben shook his head. He gaze upward towards the heavens, admiring the stars. Most of the time he longed to be flying amongst them, but just now he felt content to look up from below. It suddenly occurred to Ben that almost all of his interactions with his mother recently had been confined to dinners. He had to laugh.

“What is it?” Leia asked, cocking her head to the side.

“I’ve been unfair to you,” Ben said. “Here we are having dinner together...and it just occurred to me...I’m lucky. We do this often. Well, not this, not Jorie’s, but you share an evening meal with me as many times as you can. Truthfully, sometimes I was too busy thinking of you as ‘too busy’ to notice.” It’s dad that’s gone, something inside him finished the thought, but Ben ignored it. 

“You’re allowed to want your parents’ attention. It’s something I know well, from my own experience,” said Leia. her tone became sullen and her eyes instinctively looked up in the direction of Alderaan. A wave of sadness washed over Ben as it did Leia. The empathy they shared grew stronger as their emotions did.

“I wish I could have known them,” said Ben. “And I wish they could see you now. If what you’ve told me is true, they’d be proud.”

“I know,” said Leia after a moment. She smiled at Ben warmly, but the sadness still lingered.

“You must have been so angry when he… when Vader…” Ben looked down at the table, unable to speak the unspeakable and unable to meet his mother’s gaze. He noticed her flinch at the name Vader. They didn’t speak it often. Ben knew it brought up terrible memories for his mother and he didn’t blame her for hating him. He had given the order to destroy her homeworld, her home, her family. And then somehow The Force had brought her and Luke together. Luke and and Leia had told Ben they’d each been adopted by different caretakers, but they didn’t know or didn’t say much about their biological parents. Ben figured it must have been shocking to discover you had a sibling, a twin no less, somewhere out in the galaxy. The circumstances of their separation was a mystery to Ben and possibly to them too. Ben didn’t feel like it was his story to know. Ben finally looked up at his mother, absorbing the vulnerability and strength of her. 

“I don’t know what I would do if someone did such a thing to Chandrila. I know I complain about it...a lot... but it’s home.”

“You’d fight,” answered Leia. “You’re too much like me not to.” Ben took a sip of now cold tea, flinching at the over-bitter taste. All the sugar had long since sunk to the bottom. “You’re why I continue to fight,” continued Leia. “I want you to know peace in your lifetime. I didn’t. I grew up in war, even without realizing it.” She picked up the clunky teapot and pour fresh liquid into their cups. Ben stirred his absentmindedly, his eyes once again wandering up to the stars. He imagined starfighters clashing among them with large Imperial vessels and Rebel cruisers hovering above the fray. He could almost hear the howl of TIE fighters in formation amid cannon fire. He knew he had been born during such a battle, as it raged over the remote desert planet of Jakku. 

“Your birth was a moment of peace amidst the chaos,” said Leia, picking up on his thoughts. “Well, not the birth itself, but after. When I held you in my arms in a place of warm and comfort, while out there…” She gestured towards the stars. “Our ray of hope. So we named you after my father’s dear friend. Ben.”

Ben. Ben Solo.

Ben shot up from his chair, spilling his tea. His knees hit hard against the table and it smarted, but he was already backing away. The voice. He suddenly thought he knew where he’d heard it.

“What is it?” Said Leia, startled. She was now on her feet, looking around for danger. It was a slow night at Jories, but the few others who were dining around them began to look on with curiosity.

“I just. I remembered something. I’m fine. Sorry.” He awkwardly moved to wipe the table up and sit back down at the same time. Leia remained standing.

“Ben.”

He sat frozen, still deciding whether to run home with some excuse or stay and let Leia in. He opted for the latter.

“Remember the man at the Senate dinner, the one in the red robes.”

“Yes,” said Leia sitting, a curious look on her face.

“Did you ever find out who he is?”

“No. Neither Mon nor I spoke to him and no one else seemed to know hi either. Why? What is it?” asked Leia.

“Just a feeling,” said Ben.

“Good or bad?”

“I don’t know, yet. But I think I need to find him.”


End file.
